#ugh down with the elites

[the-kipsabian]

[disasterdandelion]

I used to LOVE the concept of anthropology before i understood how much of the academic field is white people looking around and going "wow how primitive/barbaric. Fascinating!"

[thursdayg1rl]

GUUYS HE SPOKE TO ME TODAY

[lildoodlenoodle]

Thinking about the way noir and Hobie were most likely treated because of how they look and being severely underestimated because of it.

Hobie looks and acts like a punk. He is just unserious enough to not be taken seriously. The dude is smart enough to recreate a dimension jumping watch from scraps, that people WATCH him steal and go “ugh sorry about that, he’s always like that”. And they treat him like an instigative child. Meanwhile this man is staging an interdimensional coup and is essentially a rebel freedom fighter in his own world. He is incredibly strategic and a genius while also being kind and sticking to his guns. And as a reminder, without knowing Miles or how his powers worked for even two minutes he was able to accurately help him improve his abilities! Man is observant and a quick thinker! But he’s quiet about it!

Noir dresses and sounds like an ‘oldtimer’ bc he’s from the 1930s. People probably went “ah yes grandpa” with the assumption of a mild mannered, old, and jaded private eye. Probably thought of as behind the times and not as intelligent because of lack of experience with technology. But overall first impression was of a sensible hardworking guy, and at worst melodramatic. In reality, dude is more than mildly neurotic, has severe anger issues, and prone to getting into fights. A raised socialist activist, who has very little to lose, and has canonically burned down the Statue of Liberty, shockingly he is a bit of a wildcard. And more than likely got kicked off/quit the ‘elite strike force’ for those reasons. But he’s also resourceful, smart, and quick to adapt.

Both of these characters are going to be a force to be reckoned with when they get together. Very much house on fire that burns down the entire neighborhood type relationship. I’m very excited.

[casuallyawkardd]

Close Encounters of the Spiderkind

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Single Mother!Reader

Summary: When reader refuses to go on a mission, Miguel decides to pay a home visit to figure out why 

Warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR ATSV! fluff, slight hurt/comfort and angst if you squint hard enough, Miguel is a softie around kids, it’s giving slow burn/platonic vibes, not fluent in Spanish so feel free to correct my wording/punctuation

A/N: This is kind of my way of dipping my toes back into the world of fanfiction writing, if ya’ll end up liking it I was planning on making it a little series of sorts. Not necessarily a multipart story, rather just little moments following the same general characters. I took the liberty of assigning a gender and name to the reader’s daughter since that sounded like it’d be easier in terms of writing, the rest is still like any Y/N story. Reader is also a spider person, but I’m not married to the idea for future oneshots? Drabbles? I don’t know what you kids call them nowadays...

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

It had only been a couple months since you had joined Spider-Society and, while you were still trying to find your footing, things were going a lot better than expected. There was a comradery with being around other people with the same abilities, who had experienced the same losses, victories and all that came with wearing the mask. You had found some good friends among the other Spiders, particularly with Peter B and Jess, as there was a common ground there that you had yet to share with them; something that the three of you had in common.

That commonality was currently asleep in the other room, your daughter Vada. For once, it had been a day where the radios were quiet. No calls from HQ to go on missions, no worrying chatter on the police radios, so you had taken the day to spend time with your daughter. The three year old was going through a phase where she was having nightmares almost every night, so the day was spent at home relaxing. From watching movies, to cooking meals together, Vada had been your little shadow all day and you had enjoyed every second of it.  While your toddler had tuckered herself out, you were restless, curled up on the couch watching TV at a low enough volume that only you could hear, thanks to your heightened senses. It may have been almost midnight, but that was still considered an early night for you. Used to the regime of patrolling until early in the morning and crawling into bed to get a few hours asleep before Vada came in to ask for her breakfast. Just as you were starting to feel the pull of sleep on your eyelids, letting the quiet calm sink into your bones, the moment was then yanked from you. When the beeping started the first time, you had acted on instinct to silence the noise. Your hand practically slapped the Gizmo on your wrist, the same Gizmo given to you by Miguel when you had joined his Spider-Society.  Ugh, Miguel. It was a damn shame that such a pretty face was wasted on a sourpuss like him. While being the leader of an elite group of Spider-People sounded like no easy task, there were times the man definitely took it too seriously. Sure, he had a great work ethic and was a respectable leader, but that all came with the downside that you couldn’t stand being around him for more than five minutes. You two hadn’t gotten off on the right foot and it seemed like he wouldn’t let you live that down. Ever the stern, cold-hearted leader, barking orders and chewing your ass out if something went wrong. He hardly ever smiled and when he did it was condescending, almost smug as he questioned just how intelligent you actually were. A waste of a pretty face indeed.

That pretty face came to mind when you looked down at your Gizmo, which was beeping once more, finally processing that it was Miguel who was trying to contact you. Shit.

“Hello?” your voice is quiet, wary as you answer him finally; trying to keep quiet for the toddler sleeping in the other room. Also because of the worry that you’ve pissed him off once again.

“Why aren’t you answering?” his voice cuts through the silence, monotone and firm. “An anomaly was detected on Earth-616, go take care of it. Ben Reilly and Peter Parker from Earth-13122 are already en route.”

“I....can’t,” you cringe as the word leaves your mouth. The pregnant pause that follows feels like an eternity.

“What do you mean you ‘can’t’?” He spits the word back at you, like you offended him with just the one syllable. More silence follows, Miguel waiting for your answer and you not knowing what to say. “...Is something wrong?”

“I have to go,” you end the call, not even registering the concern that had slid its way into his tone. With a heavy sigh, you lay your head against the back of the couch, regretting how you handled the situation, but thankful it was dealt with. That is until the familiar sound of a portal opening and closing disturbs your precious quiet once more. 

It makes you almost jump out of your skin, physically lurching off the couch, the warm hues from the light of the portal filling your living room and disappearing as quickly as they came. In their place is Miguel, clad in his spidersuit from head to toe. A wave of emotions goes through you, the look of shock, confusion and anger crossing your face in less than a second. He doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet, glancing around the space and disengaging his mask when he doesn’t register any immediate threats.

“What are you doing here!?” it takes all you have not to shout the words at him, instead resorting to a sort of hiss to keep your voice down. Miguel doesn’t seem to take the hint.

“This is why you couldn’t come? Because you’re too busy lounging around and watching trash TV?” he isn’t shouting per se, rather his tone makes him sound louder. That and the quiet of your apartment probably amplified his voice even more. “I know the weight of keeping the multiverse intact might go over your head, but the least you could do is be there for your teammates. I don’t allow slackers in my-” “Shh!” you’re moving towards him without even realizing, motherly instinct telling you to silence the noise that dared try to wake your daughter. Your hand reaches to cover his loud mouth and Miguel takes a step back to avoid your touch, the frustration reflecting in his eyes turning into red, hot anger. 

“Did you just ‘shh’ me!?” he sounds as if he’s in disbelief, his voice now actually rising in volume. You stumble over your words, trying to apologize and explain yourself all at once. Now it’s his turn to step towards you, his imposing frame towering over you and you can’t help but shrink back, “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you don’t get your ass in your suit, I’ll-”

“Mama?” Vada’s little voice cuts through the air, both Miguel and you freezing. When you turn to look at your daughter, who’s standing in the doorway to her bedroom, it feels like everything around you fades away. The static of the TV, Miguel, everything until all you can focus on is Vada. She’s clearly distressed, as you come to kneel in front of her you can see the tears in her big round eyes, the redness around them and on her nose, the slight tremble in her bottom lip. You know what’s wrong before she even has to explain.

“Sweet girl, another one?” you ask calmly, a hand going to stroke her hair. Vada nods, confirming your suspicion that she had been roused by yet another nightmare. The creak of the floorboards alerts you of Miguel taking a step closer and you’re suddenly very much aware of his presence once again. However, your eyes don’t leave Vada’s crying face. “Let’s get you back into bed,” you try to coax her into heading back the way she came, your toddler only resisting and shaking her head firmly.

“I want Mama’s bed,” she demands, sounding groggy as the sleep she had just risen from had yet to fully leave her. Vada doesn’t even let you respond before her tiny arms wrap around your neck, face pressing into the junction of your neck and shoulder, “Want you,” she mutters against you, the exhaustion and distress in her voice making your heart ache for her. “Vada,” you sigh heavily, exhausted as well. Exhausted from the heavy workload of being Spider-Woman not just for your universe, but other universes as well. Exhausted from the fact your child couldn’t get a wink of sleep and seeing her frustrated made you frustrated as well. You cave, scooping your daughter up in your arms and standing. Her body molds to yours, relaxing against your frame like it had done so many times before. As you rub her back and kiss her temple, you’re forced to turn and deal with the elephant in the room. Or rather the spider. 

You expect Miguel to look annoyed, as usual, but he isn’t. In fact, the anger he was prepared to unleash on you moments ago seems to have vanished, replaced with a look of curiosity, intrigue and dare you say....awe? He’s looking at Vada, who’s about to pass out in your arms, with a softened expression, the sight of the small girl seeming to tug the corners of his mouth up just slightly.

Huh.

Miguel seems to catch himself staring, shaking his head to clear the fog and meeting your gaze once more. “I...didn’t know,” is all he can say, not as confident in the way he stands.

“No one knows,” you reply in a much harsher tone than you intended. After a deep breath, you adjust how you speak, “I’ve only been on the team for a couple months. It’s not that I don’t trust the other spiders...I just want to be careful, yah know?” Miguel nods along with what you say and you can’t help but keep talking to fill the now awkward silence, “Usually I have someone to watch her, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a day to just give her all my attention- I promise, it won’t happen again. I know that I should answer if you call-”

“Cállate,” Miguel cuts you off and you’re almost grateful he’s saved you from rambling. There’s another moment of silence before he sighs, “You don’t have to explain yourself, really. If I had known,” he waves a hand to indicate to your daughter, “this was the reason you were ignoring my calls, I wouldn’t have been so hard on you. Your daughter comes first, I get it.”

His words hit harder than they should. Every Spider-Person had heard the story. How Miguel was willing to put his own duties aside to live in a universe where he had a daughter of his own. Replacing the him of that universe, who had died tragically, to live the life he had always wanted; only to have that universe crumble around him. Literally. It explained his cold demeanor, you’d probably be a bitch too if your daughter died in your arms, but that coldness you had become accustomed to seemed to melt away the longer he took in the sight of you holding your daughter.

“You said her name’s Vada?” he asks, stepping a little closer. Normally, you would probably keep your distance from him, maternal instincts in overdrive with an imposing figure like Miguel so close to Vada, but you stay in place. Not bothered by his presence for once. He’s looking at you, expecting an answer, and you nod your head. He hums, “How old?”

“Three,” you answer and he hums again. “...Is everything okay? Regarding the mission?”

“Huh? Oh,” he clears his throat, adjusting his stance and taking a small step back. When had he gotten so close to you? “I think those two should be fine on their own. Earth-13122′s Spider-Man knows what he’s doing and-”

“You know, you can just call him Lego Spider-Man. Everyone calls him Lego Spider-Man.”

“That’s not his correct title.”

“Uh-huh,” you smile, holding back a laugh at how serious Miguel seemed to be about the subject. “...Well, I think it’s time we go to bed.”

“Right, right,” Miguel moves like he’s about to walk out the front door, seeming to forget that he had come via portal and catching himself as his hand grasps the handle. Has he always been this socially awkward? He turns to look at you again, “Should I just...?”

“Yes, please open your noisy portal outside.”

“Claro que sí,” he nods in understanding, opening the door. Just as he’s about to leave, he pauses again, turning to look back at you, “Even if you’re busy, you should still answer when I call. I was worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” you repeat, a bit of teasing in your voice.

“Worried as in the normal amount of worried.”

“Sure, sure, O’Hara.”

“I’m leaving now,” he huffs, turning to leave again. Yet he can’t help but stop one more time, “Goodnight.”

He finally leaves, door shutting with a soft click. You go to the door to lock it, carrying Vada into your room for bed. It seems that she had managed to fall back asleep despite your little interaction with Miguel. As you lay down and pull the comforter over the two of you, Vada snuggling impossibly close to you once more, you lie there thinking about what had just transpired. 

Maybe his pretty face wasn’t a waste. 

Tags:

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[yanderemommabean]

Imagine red rooms but in the Devildom. Maybe not the most popular, but it's not uncommon for a demon trying to prove themselves to a potential partner to abduct them for a "first date" they won't soon forget. Maybe it's traditional to let them go after a few days, let them choose if they want to date or not, but of course some people just can't take no for an answer. There's nothing stopping anyone from keeping their little darling there until they say yes...

UGH YESSS

Imagine Lucifer hates them at first, thinks of them as stupid and useless, mostly because he doesn't think most demons are capable of love, or any sort of actual emotion.

But he himself and his brothers, they aren't typical scum of the devildom, they're the most elite demons.

He rents the Red Rooms at a hefty price, sparing no expense, letting his disgusting urges emerge when he finds that he wants you, that he craves you, and he isn't shamed of every dirty thing he wants.

I'm talking down bad gross shit too. Jars to collect your juices and spend so he can drink it later type of nasty. He's the most up tight until he's behind closed doors I just know it, I feel it in my left tit.

Not to mention, with some leeway in this universe, I'm sure there's now potions and spells you can purchase along with new toys that can be "cursed" and some rooms that can have more of a creative twist You know who else would be a fun Red Room customer? Simeon and Solomon and Barbatos. I just think they'd all have such unique twists to when they purchase a Red Room stay

-Mommabean

[dcxdpdabbles]

thought: what if jason had the ability to see ghosts but only when tired. so he ends up thinking he’s hallucinating and doesn’t tell anyone because thats tims thing

There is a little girl singing nursery rhythms and spinning in small circles. Now usually, Jason wouldn't find that too out of place. Kids always found the strangest things entertaining.

No, what was strange was that the little girl was floating just above the rails of the stairway. She looks like a poorly edited clip slapped onto the backdrop of the gala he has been dragged to.

She's wearing a red dress and a large bow in her hair that seems to have been stolen from Alice on her way to Wonderland. Her skin had a greenish hue, and a slight glow was coming off her, reminding Jason of a miniature night light.

"Huh," He mumbles, taking another sip of the water he picked up. Bruce is the one who pretends to get sloppy drunk at all the parties, while in comparison, Jason has gained a reputation for never touching alcohol. It says a lot about how powerful the Waynes are if his presence ensures the hosts have other refreshments ready for him.

This means that the little girl is not a drunken hallucination. Maybe he's more tired than he thought.

"What is it?" Tim asks to his side. His disgusting CEO smile is still firmly in place, a twist of the lips that belie the hidden tension. Tim would appear relaxed and enjoying the party like any other elite if anyone glanced in their direction. "Trouble?"

The little girl is sticking her tongue out at some teenagers heading her way. She's not doing anything but making faces at random guests that walk by. "I don't think so."

"What is it then?"

Jason had a choice here. He could mention the little girl, but that would mean admitting he could see her. Based on the way, literally, no one is reacting; he's the only one that can.

She's likely another hallucination.

Jason has been getting those since he was young, usually due to a lack of sleep. Just last week, he saw a butcher wandering the streets of Gotham, wearing the highest heels he had ever seen. That had been after the five-day mission with the OutLaws, where he thinks he only had a chance to sleep maybe three times.

He should go home before the little girl starts doing something weird.

Not that he would ever let the rest of the family know, especially Tim. Seeing things that aren't there is Tim's thing, and Jason has teased him too often over the years about it to start admitting he's got the condition too.

He nods his head at the teenagers. Tim turns his body slightly, allowing his gaze to take in what he's looking at without making it obvious he's staring. Apparently, he can't make it known he's interested in someone. Ugh, another rule of high society that Jason will never bother to understand. "I've never seen them before."

He means the two accompany Samatha Manson. He's aware of the inventor's granddaughter, seeing as her family had ties with the Waynes, distant as they may be. It was Waynes who bought the rights to her grandfather's inventions many years ago, and his son was the one that started investing in some smaller shell companies of Waynes, further building the family fortune.

Jason didn't see her often at galas because while the Mansons were wealthy, they were new money. They had no connections, mannerisms, or mindset to be welcomed by the elites.

"Daniel Fenton and Tucker Foley. Foley is in the brown suit, Fenton is the one in the black one." Tim identifies quickly. He probably went over the gala invitation guest list to memorize everyone attending even though it wasn't a gala they were hosting. "Her best friends. Nothing that stands out too much about them except for Fenton. His parents are independent ghost hunters and researchers."

Jason blinks down at this brother. "Ghost hunters?"

Both brothers know how real ghosts can be in their line of work, seeing as Deadman has helped them with some cases before. Still, it's surprising to find civilians who are that close to the undead.

"More Ghostbusters than actual hunters." Tim shrugs when he gets a confused frown. "I looked into them to make sure Fenton over there wouldn't be a danger once in Gotham. His parents' inventions are marketed as ghost-hunting equipment but are authentic weapons. He's been known to show signs of rouge potential behavior."

Jason looks back at the black hair boy who is......talking to the little girl? Or trying to? She is spinning again, floating up to the chandelier, not caring for the teenage boy leaning over the railing towards her as Foley and Manson stand guard. If they trying to be inconspicuous, they are doing a poor job.

Jason spots Damian approaching the trio with a tense set of his shoulders. His youngest brother taps his finger against the glass in his hand in a specific rhythm.

If any of the Bats have seen Damian- which is all of them, given that everyone in the family always keeps an eye on Damian at galas- they have all been told the same message.

Possible jumper.

Granted, without the little girl, it looks like Fenton wants to take a leap over the railing. That's worrying.

Tim proves this by tilting his chin slightly in their direction, shoulders also tense. "Let's go."

Jason follows after Tim, trying his best to not make it obvious they are freaking out about a possible tragedy about to happen. Damian, thankfully, has already reached the teenagers but is stalled by Manson.

He can't hear what she's saying, but she's matching Damian's angry scowl with her own. Seeing the only two goth kids standing off with each other is hilarious.

Damian had told Bruce a few months back that he wanted to try and change his civilian persona a bit and had taken their dad's credit card with Raven to do shopping.

He's come back as a goth, giving Bruce a near heart attack, as Damian changed out all his suits to have a scull somewhere on his person at all times. Jason thought it was the best cover plan the brat could have ever done.

Mason's right eye twitches when she sees them, but other than glaring harshly, she doesn't say anything as they come up to stand behind Damian. Tim is in the perfect place to sludge for Fenton should the boy throw himself over. Jason is to tackle the two teenagers should they try to stop his brother.

"Dude, it's okay. Danny always does that," Foley assures as they finally climb up to them. "He's really into, ugh, parkour."

"It's dangerous," Damian particularly bites. Looks like someone needs more sensitive training.

Fenton stops trying to lean over the rail to glance over his shoulder to Damian. "I'm okay. Thank you for worrying about me, though."

Jason is standing in the prime location to see Damian's haughty expression melt away into startled wonder. He watches a tiny bit of red appear on the cheekbones of his youngest brother, and for a moment, all Jason can think is how much he will have fun teasing the boy later.

Gosh, if he wasn't so tired he would realize he wasn't the only one who noticed.

"He's red like a tomato!" A feminine voice chirps, and he can't help but laugh at the comment. Damian's face is slowly turning redder by the curious head tilt Fenton does in his direction. Cute.

"You got that right, kiddo, so red he's ripe for the picking. " Jason smirks down at his brother, who, for his part, dares to look confused.

"What are you babbling about?" Damian snaps as Tim's intense eyes swing over the boy's head to lock gazes with Jason.

"What the girl said"

"I didn't say anything," Manson denies, and Jason finally realizes he has responded to the little girl, who is grinning ear from ear. Shit.

"Oh." Fenton nods, stepping down the railing to look Jason dead in the eye and smile. "You see dead people."

"Cool, one of us. One of us." Foley chants with a grin, and even Mason seems to relax more, going from irritated to indifferent. The teenager stops his chat when the three brothers fail to find humor.

Danny just smiles near-vacantly, which causes Damian to look hot under the collar.

Maybe Jason should leave to take a nap in the safety of his room because he does not have the time to unpack all of this.

"Maybe we should find Bruce," Tim says after a moment, and that is when the little girl choices to fly right up to Tim and flick his ear. Tim startles so hard he slams into Damian, who loses his footing and falls over. Jason is fast enough to catch him before he rolls down the stairs.

Danny giggles, and for the first time since he's known Damian, he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him hole. What a weird night for Jason.

"What the hell was that?" Tim mumbles, looking around.

Manson grins a sharp, wicked thing. "A ghost"

"Of course it is." Tim sighs then he gives Jason a near-eye glare. "How long have you been able to see ghosts?"

"Honestly? Probably since I was six. I thought they were hallucinations."

"And why did you not tell anyone about having what you thought were lifelong hallucinations?"

"I'm not you. Hallucinations are your weird thing. Mine are guns."

"I like them," Fenton announces, and the other two finally step back. Only then does he come to the startling observation that Manson and Feley had been acting like bodyguards by placing themselves between Fenton and the Waynes?

What a strange night indeed.

"Todd, let me up!"

[sweetestbasil]

RUBATOSIS || chapter one: self digestion

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it )

RATING : 18+ ( no smut in this chapter, but it's very unsettling )

WORD COUNT : 13, 776

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, body examination that has... strange vibes, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

SUMMARY : 🙶 rubatosis - noun. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 🙷

Fortune, marriage, and success - all within the hands of Coriolanus Snow, and it still isn’t enough to satisfy him. Tigris has grown distant and Livia is far more trouble than it's worth. 

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : This is my first time posting my fanfic work on tumblr, so I hope everyone has fun reading this. If there are any mistakes, lemme know. This is the first of five chapters!

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ]

self digestion || autolysis - stage one of decomposition 

Oh, he hated this. 

He absolutely despised this.

A click of the soles, stepping against the freshly clean sidewalk, rid of any possible careless litter and debris. Had it not been for others who, too, were using the same path, even if they were going in opposite directions, had he half a mind, Coriolanus would have taken the moment to prop himself against a wall and let out the loudest sound of frustration. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, it wouldn’t be uncalled for. Dare he say, he almost feels he should be entitled to it. It had only been four days, but four days should have been enough time for Tigris to get back to him already. The correspondence was not even something of dire content, at least, Coriolanus imagined so. Questions of Grandma’am, if her time with Mrs. Plinth ( he was not going to refer to her as ‘Ma Plinth’ ) had been going well, how was the solo business venture regarding Tigris’s fashion going, was there any renovations that the home needed, how were they — things that he assumed, wrongly he guessed, that would be so simple to answer. 

God forbid that he still had the decency to still check in with his family even after he long moved out into his own place. 

If Tigris thought she could play him for a fool, she was the one in the wrong; the signs were as clear as can be, that Tigris was trying to ice him out as much as she could. And after all he’s worked hard for? Fixing the home up, making sure the fridge never stays empty, stabilizing the family. He’s even gotten engaged before Grandma’am could even croak, and is letting Tigris design his fiancé’s wedding gown! What else was he supposed to do to try and gain back her warmth? Dance and clap like a District to make himself seem smaller, more dumb, to please her? There was a lock to his jaw, a small grit in Coriolanus’s teeth, as he sipped down the coffee in his hand, the other in his coat pocket. 

He didn’t even wish to broach the idea of his fiancé on his walk to the Citadel. The heavy breath, a sigh, that breached itself out his lips. A hand raised to rub a gloved thumb briefly at the bridge of his nose. 

Ugh, Livia… It was a pain to even internally taste the words of her name on his tongue. 

It was an arranged marriage of convenience that he sought after, an extra piggy bank that he could expend on; and how quickly the elder Cardews lapped up at his palm when he planted the idea of marrying their daughter. A man who was of the old guard elite families, an assistant of Dr. Gaul’s, inheritor of the Plinth’s fortune, a gamemaker in training? They were downright salivating, that he almost felt embarrassed for Livia having to witness her parents’ stripped to their barest of greeds. The keyword being almost. Coriolanus needed to play his cards right to ensure his future, it was only fair game. If that meant taking his chance with the Cardews’ and their banks, he’d be just the fool that Tigris would want him to be if he turned them away. But, he could reluctantly suppose that the arrangement could be considered an equal drain on both parties. He seized their assets and their daughter seized up his free time. How could he forget the fundraiser dinner that Livia had invited them both to later on in the evening? She was delightful enough to remind him of it while they shared breakfast together, between his bites of quiche so that he couldn’t show a hint of a frown. 

Coriolanus sucked in a careful breath between his teeth. 

If she could only put herself to better use than just the one redeeming quality of a socialite. There was a slim chance he may have miscalculated. Perhaps it would have been an easier time, having something set up with Clemensia, or Lysistrata. 

“Mr. Snow! Good morning and welcome back, Dr. Gaul is already waiting for you in—“ 

“In Lab H05, got it! And a good morning to you, too.” He smiled back effortlessly to the front desk worker, giving them a wave and just the right, charming amount of teeth with the upwards pull of his mouth. 

Entering into the Citadel and seeing the hive of workers shift from one place to another in constant movement; they all tried to keep their voices at a low volume, but there was a constant buzz in the air, as they went from one hall to the other. Coriolanus maneuvered himself around them, slipping his deep mahogany overcoat seamlessly folded across his forearm. Full-Grain leather gloves that kept him warm from the cold, taken off his hands and instead placed neatly into the pocket of his overcoat. What a marvel it would have been for his young, naïve self to bear witness the luxury of a full wardrobe he now had. Never again did he have to spend long nights studying for the Academy besides an equally tired Tigris, who busied herself with trimming down the sizes of his father’s discarded shirts to fit him for school the next day. 

It was a muscle memory at this point, the path to one of the many labs that Dr. Gaul had established her practice in. She had told Coriolanus that she had a lab for each different study and project she was passionate towards, ones that were more… presentable, to the average Capital citizen, and ones that were more uncensored. Having worked for over a year under Dr. Gaul’s tutelage, Coriolanus had seen a decent amount, the clean and the vile, but even then, he knew very well he had not seen all. He wasn’t even sure if he did want to see all. Especially regarding what happened last time he wandered around the Citadel during Academy days. The doors to Lab H05 were wide open, Coriolanus noted, seeing it in his line of sight, getting closer and closer. It was inviting, telling any worker to come in and step in at any time ( should Dr. Gaul be around ). 

The air here was entirely different from what it was in the hallway. Where the air from when he first entered had been warm, inviting from the nipping cold outside. The vague smell of coffee, and an even fainter scent of something chemical, had mingled and intertwined to give the vaguest illusion that the Citadel could pass for a workplace like any other. However, the lab was as if entering an entirely different building. The lights that shone uncomfortably glaring, fluorescent lights that were hung overhead, on the ceiling. There were small lights, embedded into the floors and columns as well, guiding the path to any who walked in. It drowned the large room in an almost blue light. Lab H05 was one of the “clean” labs. A sterile scent in the air, the chemicals that were so faint in the halls were far more prominent, evident here. But, to the trained nose, there was something faint here too. The rusted scent of iron tickled under Coriolanus’s nose, but it barely registered to him anymore as anything concerning. Seeing the endless shelves of… odd specimens, the scent of blood was the last thing that should ever scare him away. 

“Dr. Gaul, good morning,” He kept a steady tone, not one that sounded tired, nor too joyous. Being seen as her “favorite” didn’t mean he could speak to her as casually as he pleased. It just meant that he took her current attention. A fickle thing that could be stripped away at any moment if he showed any less than acceptable. 

“Coryo,” He tensed his shoulders the same time she breathed it out in loving fashion. Her back once facing him, now turned as she walks towards him to cut the distance between the two. Since the gap started to form between Tigris and him, Dr. Gaul had taken to using that nickname on him. If it was to be used in terms of endearing him to her, or to mock him with the name that ghosts had called him, none could say for sure.

Coriolanus liked to believe it to be both, if he believed his assumptions of her character were right.

He never once let his eyes leave contact with her own, but he could hear the movement of her prominent, red latex gloves being peeled off her hands. She always thought it to be ironic, to wear such a color despite her profession. It matched the dye job that she had done on her surgical gown. He felt the weight of hands touching either side of his forearms, the smile on Dr. Gaul’s face caused a crinkle in her eyes as she bared all teeth in her smile. He wondered if she knew how threatening her grin looked.

“A morning to you as well. Has it been treating you good?”  

It felt as if some sort of warm feeling was spreading out from Dr. Gaul’s hands, through his arms and into his body. What a disgusting sensation, it made goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“As well as it could be.” Coriolanus’s voice spoke softly. 

Livia drained his energy far more than he expected with her morning rambles and gossip. 

Dr. Gaul’s hands smacked against his arms in a laugh, loud and knowing, she always knew, turning around to walk deeper in the lab. “Hah! By the sounds of it, it seems you’re not getting some peace of mind when you head home,” She turned back to look at him, giving him a glance, she was prying something out of him. “That’s no good, Coryo. You need to be in top shape to work, I can’t have my assistant become so… drained.” 

The crease in her eyes showed again. 

“If this is your preferred state, there is a new species of leeches I am working on. I assure you it is far more efficient than a Cardew of species.”

Well, now it was his turn to laugh. 

A dry chuckle that slipped from Coriolanus’s lips, moving to follow Dr. Gaul. Placing his coat on a table made of rich wood, something less… aseptic looking. There were moments where he often froze under the woman’s gaze; a humiliating, bodily reaction that made him feel so small, so vulnerable as he used to be. Yet, it was in times like these, where he could understand how Dr. Gaul still managed to hold sway over people besides just exemplary displays of fear and power. There was a sense of humor to her, if he could call it that, where if a powerful woman like her involved yourself in - you felt so included, special. 

“It was nothing like that. Livia just reminded me that after work today, she and I have to attend dinner later in the evening. It’s a fundraiser for the improvement and reconstruction of the Corso.” He turned his sight away from Dr. Gaul’s eyes, not being able to keep the contact any more. Flicking to the sight of the endless, bright shelves that lit up the tubes containing various specimens and experiments. Some failures, some on pauses, some successes, and some were just creative ‘what-ifs’; that would explain some of the seemingly useless fusions, like the jellyfish that had spider legs mixed in with some of its natural lappets, now encased in a resin tube. Coriolanus can’t recall if he was employed at the Citadel yet when this specimen was made. His fingers briefly touched upon the cool glass of it. What a disgusting idea. “I almost nearly forgot about it.” Dr. Gaul hummed at his response. 

“Why, doesn’t that sound riveting! What a joy young life is, flitting from one function to the other, all the night-time glamor. You know, before I was transferred to work in the Citadel, I was the same. I thought of giving my children some of my old wardrobe from my youth, but it’s so out of the current trends, it just collects dust now.” What a blessing, for her kids. They could avoid the embarrassment of coming into the room looking as if they robbed the Pre-Dark Days exhibit at the Capital’s museum. The heels of Dr. Gaul’s heels clicked against the smooth, waxed floor. Coriolanus could feel the brief sliver of her heavy presence pass him by from behind, as she went to head over to another area in the room. It sounded vaguely close to the center of it. 

“You must be excited, Coryo. Are you going to wear,” Her words paused. She was tasting the air for something. “Ah, what’s her name… That cousin of yours, the one who started her new business a while ago.”

What was the point of this conversation?

“Tigris.” 

A brief flare tickled behind his ribs, reminding him of his thoughts earlier before. Standing up from his spot, fingers now leaving the glass of the odd ( sickening ) creature, his prints left slightly behind on the glass. Stretching his shoulders back with his arms, muscles pulled, away from their previously hunched position. Coriolanus walked over to where Dr. Gaul was, who stood nearby another table at the center of the lab. This time, this one was far cleaner, made of what seemed to be a material of stainless steel. In her hands she carried a manila folder, or two, in her hands; her painted nails sifted through the papers carefully. She was writing something quickly down inside of it. He wanted to know, but he held his tongue. Gaul would tell him if it was something he needed to be aware of. 

“And I’m not sure. Livia is still picking out her dress and I want to match with her.” He smiled at her. 

“Aren’t you a romantic,” She gives him a look out of the corner of her eye, the blue one that matched his. It made his skin crawl, he hated the feeling of it. “Is your heart melting, Snow?”

Coriolanus hopes she sticks to her career as a Gamemaker, being a comedian looks like a bleak future for her. 

The smile on his lips grew wider, a small laugh at her words, his hand reaching to cover his mouth slightly to muffle the sound in the large room. 

“I wouldn’t say that just yet.” 

He wouldn’t say it at all. Livia? Melt his heart? Sure, she could melt his eardrums when she had that obnoxious snort to her loud laughs. It made her sound like a pig, shipped straight to the Capital from the farms of District 10. That would defeat the purpose of why he married her in the first place. It would be the utmost betrayal to himself, after he had promised to close himself after– 

“Since you have a date tonight,” His ears perked up immediately. “I’ll reduce the amount of work you have for today, I’ll be merciful.” He wouldn’t argue if she decided to give him more. She pressed a manila folder into his open hands, her grip was tight on it. This was a folder that not many eyes needed to be on. Taking it carefully from her hands, he raised it to his eyesight curiously, catching the sight of the project name written on top of it. 

PROJECT: CAPTIVE – A.01 PROMETHEUS 

Coriolanus brought his gaze back towards Dr. Gaul. He assumed he slipped a confused gaze at her, because before he could even ask her, she’s already speaking up:

“This is a project I had started around the time you were exiled in District 12.” 

His jaw slightly tightened. She didn’t have to use that exact word to describe it. 

“It’s far more… unique,” Her eyes rolled around the room as she sought out the word, the moment it landed on her tongue, she locked her sight immediately onto him. Gaul’s smile pulled a bit more at her cheeks, a festering excitement that was slipping out from her internal confines. The threat of teeth in her smile was no longer an attempt of niceties, but far more sinister in its intentions. Coriolanus would argue on a good day that both were the same, that Dr. Gaul’s cruelty was her being kind. “Than my other projects. Far more different than any of my other muttations, this is a beast of a different breed, but one that you and I know intimately well.”

 So this was a human experimentation, Coriolanus deduced. 

Dr. Gaul would never dare to refer to those below Capital ranks as something human, there was always something else she had to refer to them by. Animal, beast, plague, insect, if it stripped them of their humanity, she was eager to take it. They shared similar sentiments, but sometimes, he had to give them some form of distinct name to separate them. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of it. Usually, I’d handle its tests and exams, but you seem like you need a pick-me-up.” 

It should make him disgusted at how easily she could see through him. 

The older woman stepped further away from him, into one of the dark recesses of the room. Lab H05 was one of the main center labs within the Citadel, meaning it earned itself the privilege to have its layout be connected to other rooms, outside areas, halls, and the like. It just happened to be, the darker areas that Gaul was heading in were towards the direction of one of the elevators connected to the room. Coriolanus watched her body retreat into the dimly lit area, not quite following after her. He didn’t know why. His hands felt stiff with the folder in his hands. The pounding beat of his heart in his ears matched in tempo with the steps of her heels against the floor. If he was going to move, she was going to need to ask him. She knew too, the doctor knew her own footsteps, and she was very aware when others’ joined in. Turning around to look at where he still was, standing, watching, she looked back at him. Coriolanus could make out her faint silhouette in the dark, but Dr. Gaul’s blue eyes shone brighter in the dark. As if she had tapetum lucidum, how it reflected so wildly. She was not helping the rumors made against her, that questioned if she ever used herself for a subject of fascination. 

“Come now, Coryo. You don’t want to waste time.”

A silence fell upon them both. 

“Understood, I’m right behind you.”

Walking after her, Coriolanus descended the small set of stairs that she had gone down from, he stepped into the dimly lit area. The manila folder was still grasped tightly in his one hand, at his side. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand her. Yes, she said that she wanted to cheer him up, but he’d be a fool if he was to believe that’d was to be the only reason why she was doing this. Volumnia Gaul, telling confidential secrets because she cared for his well being? No, there was always something else. An ulterior motive she wished to serve, or a lesson she wanted to teach. When he was brought back from his sentence of being a peacekeeper, it was not because her heart broke over him. She was not weeping at him having to tread his feet into the muck and grime of District 12. It was because she was holding him up to an ambition that both him and her both wished to see. 

“This one,” Dr. Gaul started her words, occasionally turning her head to the side to make sure he was still following her ( he was ). “Started out as a simple curiosity. I had to sit with myself quite a bit to figure out a punishment that would actually serve some productivity.” Her hands reached behind her, flicking at the folder that Coriolanus was holding. He opened up the folder, finally, to look through the report. Whatever the Doctor was gesturing vaguely in conversation, it would be more explicit in her writings. “Displays of cadavers, desecration of the human silhouette, trauma to the cerebrum, these punishments can only go for so long before new ideas must be made. If the rebels expect the same disciplinary action, you can expect them to gain a tolerance to it.”

Squinting at the paper, he leaned his head slightly down to get a closer look of the subject. A small photo was attached to the report by a paperclip, it was a person who seemed to be in a similar age group to his. They looked clean, proper - they wore an ironed, white button up shirt under a dark vest, with unique, yet simple earrings they donned on. Pearls and tiny opals that dangled from a gold chain earring. A family heirloom, if Coriolanus had to guess. They smiled widely in the photo. Their teeth weren’t perfect, their upper cuspid was a bit more pointed in comparison to all others. 

They had once been a capital citizen, turned rebel, to… this. 

“I wanted to truly push my mind forward, and see if the impossible would truly be… well, possible.” Dr. Gaul grinned at the end of the sentence. Coriolanus lifted the photo up, after hooking his gaze unto the former for a moment. It’s a shame, he thought to himself. How pretty they are, had they not tainted their mind with childish ideas they would have continued to live in the comforts that they were so comfortably lavishing in before. He was curious as to whose family they once belonged to. A filthy curiosity enticed him, a want to digest more at the report at the risk of tuning out Gaul’s feverish ramblings. 

“Personally, I outdid myself.”

There was a small desire to curse her under his breath, the writing for the subject’s name was far too rushed and messy to read properly. Did she want him to read the report, or play word scramble? 

Dr. Gaul’s steps had stopped, the white noise of her chatter turned to silence was enough to bring his head back from the report. She stood between him and the elevator, holding her hands in front of her, folded. Peeking to the side, the button for the down level was lit up in a glow of red. Her smile widened. 

“Curiosity eating away at you, Coryo?” 

It still made his skin crawl, everytime she used that name. How frightening it was, that it also brought him a strange sense of the coldest warmth. 

“You’ve talked so vividly about them,” Not clear enough. “I want to see what makes you so excited about them.” He wants to see if they could come close to bringing him out of his frustrations. Fingers that touched the edge of the subject’s photo twitched in tempo with the small ding of the elevator. Doors opening, Dr. Gaul stepped to the side. Hands gestured, letting him know to step in first which he obliged. Yet, no other steps than his own followed him in. Coriolanus turned around, a puzzled look on his face when he noticed how Dr. Gaul was standing in the middle of the elevator’s doors. 

“Expected me to come join you? You can’t be so attached to my hip, Coryo.” She laughed, her hands reached in between her surgical gown and work attire. Pulling out a set of keys attached to her worker’s ID, she tugged a key off. Dr. Gaul dipped her body slightly in to twist at a lock that had revealed another panel of floor buttons aside from the usual floor ones. This must have been the key designated for the Citadel’s researchers and engineers. He had a private key of his own, but that was reserved for Game Makers. Still in training, but Dr. Gaul had persuaded the others to give him his own copy. “I have other things that need tending to, so you’ll have to have your fun without me.” Pushing a floor button that was labeled C09, glowing red under her touch, she gave him her key. She pressed into Coriolanus’s free palm, closing his fingers to clasp around it. 

“You can keep this one. I’ll ask for another copy.”

Was it because this one almost seemed rusted over to hell and back? Coriolanus wasn’t an idiot. He could feel the textured sensation of something that, usually, was supposed to be smooth metal. 

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.” He spoke softly back to her. 

Dr. Gaul sent him another smile towards his way, the abominable sight of her gradually leaving his sight as the doors closed. A divide now between the both of them. 

Instantly, a breath of air was released from Coriolanus. His head reeled back, eyes closed,  leaning against the wall of the elevator. He was now by himself. Free from that imposing woman, he finally could be released from her watchful gaze. Always gauging him, examining him as if he, too, was another subject on her surgical table. Perhaps, in a strange, distant sense, he was. Which is why he likes it far more when their interactions are limited. Even if it makes him feel guilty if he hasn’t spoken to her for any prolonged amount of time. 

Another breath, he brought his head back down, eyes open. Opening his hand to where the key was held in his hand. It was frighteningly warm in his hand, most likely from when both Dr. Gaul and him held onto it. The material of the key was dark in color, rust having formed around some of the edges. Spots of dark stains marred its dull shine, it almost looks black in contrast to the key’s natural dark hue. This most definitely was blood, now dried. In his head, Coriolanus could see the vivid picture in his head: Dr. Gaul barely bothering to remove her gloves after leaving the examination room, holding the key between sticky gloves. A sneer pulled on Coriolanus’s face. He pocketed the key away. 

He wanted to focus on something else. 

The weight of the manila report at his side stuck out glaringly obvious, he still had yet to fully read through everything. His fingers were still thumbing between one of the pages, bookmarking a random place in the report. Should he wait to see the project on his own? Give himself something ‘fun’ to surprise himself with? A discomfort prickled at the hairs on his neck. No, he didn’t like surprises too much. Surprises meant no control, and no control meant chaos that wasn’t under his hand. And what more could be asked, when what he needed to know was right here. Hands flipped back open the manila folder while he waited for the elevator to finish its descent. 

On the first page, there was only one photo of the subject, before the project had started. Dr. Gaul was always so thorough, so there must have been more to see. And how he loved to be right, when the sight of more clipped on photos peeked through in between pages. He stopped at the sight of them. These had been nude, taken in what was most definitely an examination room. They must’ve been in captivity for a few days for how haggard they looked. Gleam completely gone, with only a dark emptiness seen on their face. Signs of minimal swelling on their left cheek from when they were hit by a peacekeeper when resisting arrest. Bags under the optics, suggesting either sleep deprivation or developed insomnia. His eyes lingered on the photos that took in zoomed in shots of identifiable beauty marks that were scattered around their body. One around the back of their left acromial, around the sternocleidomastoid, one on the left mammary gland, and another on the right femoral muscle. Unconsciously, his fingers traced along the edges of each photo as he examined them until they traced after the words of ink. 

The objective of the project: engaging and testing pain receptors on the subject. By use of non-licensed medication and surgical operations, the subject’s NTRK1 gene was mutated to a certain extent to gain the closest imitation to Congenital Analgesia ( while still keeping the subject alive ). If Coriolanus recalled, in his textbooks, Congenital Analgesia was a condition that always was given to a patient by a pass down from the parent. It was never really something ‘made’, or ‘given’. He could understand now why Dr. Gaul was so pleased with herself for accomplishing this feat. Curiosity was beckoning him, wanting to see more of what the report entailed. 

Pages dedicated to each operation, each test done. There were pain charts made, scales from 1 to 10, to test out the nerve receptors. Each test, the numbers on the chart went lower and lower; 10s that went to 9s, to the current lowest being a 6 for the majority of the subject’s body. The more sensitive areas, such as the frontal or the palmar of the body, were around 7 to 8 on the chart. Flipping to the back of the contents, there was a small note in Dr. Gaul’s handwriting.

Today, please take care of Project Prometheus’s nerve exams. The last surgical operation was done last month and they have just now fully recovered. Update the report by the end of today, to measure if there are any fluctuations on their pain receptors.

Sounded simple enough. If this was all he had to do today, then there was a chance he could clock out from work even earlier to give himself space before tonight’s event. A ding finally was heard from the elevator, he was here at Lab C09. Folder closed in his hands, his foot stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor. What a drastic difference Lab C09 had been in comparison to Lab H05. If it hadn’t belonged to Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus may not have been able to believe that this was an actual functioning lab. It almost seemed forgotten by the Citadel, half of the fluorescent lights not working, or blinking at different intervals. It bathed the floor in a very gray, almost vile green hue. The scent of copper and rust was far more noticeable, and the smell of medicine felt almost nauseous here. There were no grand columns in sight, and no endless amount of shelves dedicated to new specimens and ideas of creation. The floors were unkempt, specks of dirt packed into the corners of where the wall and once sleek tiles met. Occasional cracks on the floor, parts of the design broken and shattered into bits of ceramic. The halls were long, with endless doors that ( thankfully ) all were open, empty, or both. With the exception of the large corridor doors at the other end. He could make out the sight of Peacekeepers that stood on guard, near the corridor door and by the elevator entrance. 

This definitely was Dr. Gaul’s more… uncensored labs. 

Coriolanus took a few more steps into the lab and noticed the large stain of dried blood that dragged from where his feet stood, past the corridor doors. Eyebrows raised at the sight, but his eyes did not widen. Marvelous, the subject might still be rebellious. If this was to be the case, he’d be severely unimpressed. All these exams to change the NTRK1 and nothing done to affect the amygdala. 

Sloppy work here, Dr. Gaul. 

Pushing through the corridor doors, after giving the briefest of nods and acknowledgement towards the Peacekeepers, he found himself exactly where he needed to be. Entering an area that was entirely void of light, except for one thing. 

A large window glass on the other side, showing the examination room on the other side. It lit up this half of the hall, shelves of varying medicines and chemicals lined against the walls of the examination room. Surgical tools were lined up high on the wall, out of reach, not yet pulled out and placed on the side. Today there was no operation to be done. Examination lights shone overhead, and under it was the examination table where Project Prometheus sat. 

They sat down so compactly, so politely, knees folded to their chest and arms wrapped around them, their face leaned against the crevice their legs gave. The subject definitely had changed, physically, since the projects had begun. Their skin barely had the warm glow it had in their photo, had it not been for the peeks of color on their joints, he’d assume that there was no more blood rushing through their body. Their hair that once looked so well maintained, luxurious, was cut at awkward angles. Yet, it still managed to frame their face well enough. Figures, that was former Capital genes at work. Their body has taken significant damage since then. Scars of various shapes were scattered all across, bandages wrapped in some areas, and stitches that dragged around entire limbs, like their arms, thighs, feet, even one on their face. As if they were some over-played ragdoll that was patched up far too many times. There was no fight he could see from their eyes, and no anger. Was the blood on the floor halls really theirs, or did that belong to someone else?

This could not even be called anything, but a shell of a husk. 

Coriolanus stood there, watching, taking in the sight of them. It barely felt like he was breathing. And that alone irritated him. It’s like his body was trying to make itself seem smaller; as if he was somehow bothering them. He sighed out his frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t even hear him from the thick glass, what would he be so concerned with? Bringing his hand back down, about to open the manila folder once again to compare their ID photo to their current state - he peeked at their form again. 

He had been noticed by it. 

His breath felt lodged in his throat, his original action now tossed to the side, as they and him both just… watched each other. Their eyes that had looked so sullen and distant before, were so focused and vigilant of him. But, they didn’t seem scared of him. Their body didn’t look tense, their expression didn’t twist into any wrinkles. What feeling was running through their body? Could they possibly feel anything? Coriolanus stepped away from the glass, slowly, and down further into the hall, to where the door of their examination room was. A peacekeeper stood guard near the heavy door, beside them a surgical gown, cap, goggles and gloves were on a hook. Excusing the other to the side, so he could reach and grab the attire to put on himself. Coriolanus questioned, as he tugged the latex rubber gloves on, if he still wanted to entertain the idea of holding their test today. Teeth grinded inside his jaw, he hated to admit weakness, but it was no lie that they unsettled him when they had stared back. 

That probably contributed to why Dr. Gaul favored the project so much, both must take joy from bringing him such unease. A sigh hissed from his teeth, as he put the surgical mask on. 

“I’ll be back out in just a moment. I’ll let you know if an emergency comes up.” 

It’ll be easy work, and then he can leave.

Opening the door, the sterile smell of the room rushed past him as the metal door was moved from its tight seal and then closed heavily behind him. Their head had moved away from where the glass window was, turned to stare at where he stood near the door, their folder still in his hands. Thinly-veiled sweat was forming inside the gloves, with the silence that fell heavy in the room. He opened the folder. 

“Good morning, Subject A01, I am–”

…? 

Did they say something? 

“...I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Another tense silence fell in the air. 

“... That isn’t my name.” Its voice was quiet, slightly hoarse but not entirely. Unexpected, considering their length of stay here. His fingers pinched tightly at one of the pages. 

“...What do you mean?” He was not going to call them by their Capital name. They had long since lost the right to use it, after rebelling against Panem. 

“Dr. Gaul calls me something else.” Coriolanus was going to kill it if they did not clarify. 

“And what does she call you?” This was the nicest tone he could muster. 

They spoke it once into the air, still looking at him with those dead eyes of theirs. Had Dr. Gaul been so fond of it to have given it an entirely new name? And they accepted and went along with it? That didn’t feel right, from what he’s examined about them so far. They were a rebel, they had fought against a Peacekeeper, they were dragged around the halls bleeding. 

And they gave up their old name?

It had shifted out of its cradled position, their legs dangled off the examination table and their arms were placed on their side. Coriolanus could see the patient gown they wore more clearly. It kicked its feet in the air idly, as it waited for his response. 

… Do they even know the situation that they’re in? 

“...Right. Well, do you know why I’m here?” 

“Not really. I’ve never met you before.” Was context clues also something it gave up while in captivity? “I know the guards, and I know Dr. Gaul. I don’t think I know about you,” They’re a prisoner, it’d be counter-intuitive if people were giving them info about every single staff member here. His mask covered the lower half of his face, but he hoped the slight shift of facial muscle was enough to convey that was trying to smile towards them. He walked further into the examination room, closer to where it sat and where the shelves of drugs and medical equipment were lined up. Their stare was burrowing holes into his back, while he shifted around, opening and closing shelves and drawers to check inside for what he needed. 

“Well, I am Dr. Gaul’s assistant. You can call me Snow,” He was not giving his first name to a former rebel. “I’m here today because Dr. Gaul is a bit busy today to handle your check-up, so I’ll be filling in her role.” Gloves shifted bottles around, turning them around to read the labels. The disinfectant, cotton swabs, tweezers, needles, rubbing alcohol, syringes, the bite-rag, marker, he had it all except the custom medicine that Dr. Gaul had made for it. In the instructions of how to construct their exam, Dr. Gaul had explicitly mentioned that they were to take specific medication, as they had helped keep it conscious at all times for operations and exams. It was needed so that they’d be able to relay the ratings, which is why Coriolanus was reading yet another prescription bottle in his hands, squinting in frustration. 

“It’s this bottle over here.” 

A delicate, scarred hand had pointed at another bottle that sat idly on the shelf. Coriolanus turned his head slightly, seeing the subject no longer on the examination table, standing behind him quietly. Not staring at him, they were entirely looking at where their hand pointed. They were only standing just a couple inches away from his body, careful not to touch him as they stood on the tips of their toes to point at the medicine. With this proximity, it was easier for him to get a closer look at them. The stitches on its body were done with thick, prominent threads; there were far more beauty marks he could pick out on their face that the photos didn’t display. The patient gown was made from a material far thinner than he expected, a visible silhouette could be seen from underneath the flimsy cloth. His mouth felt unusually dry. 

A cold chill trickled down his spine. He barely noticed them. He doesn’t even think it made a sound when it moved. 

“Careful, keep your space from me.” He spoke, a careful warning to their ears and a threatening promise on his. He didn’t want to risk being so close to them like this, he barely knew the extent of how violent the project could possibly be yet. Still, they listened, backing away from him and putting their hand back down to their side. Both it and him stared at each other again, the tense air dancing back inside the room. They looked as if they had wanted to say something, and Coriolanus, internally, felt almost violent for how demure they were being with him. It repulsed him, how it felt almost endearing if he looked at them for a second more. 

“Is something wrong?” Eventually he bit the bullet, speaking first between the two of them. He can’t bear another moment of silence with it. 

“... I don’t need a bite-rag. I don’t think I really scream much anymore.” They still had an issue with explaining context to him more, he’ll tell Dr. Gaul that needed some work lat– His jaw ticked… Why did he care about your abysmal social skills? It was a captive, it had no one to speak to other than their own captors. Pulling down their prescription from the shelf, a dark, thick liquid, he said in return: “It’s best to have it on hand, just in case you need it. Now, return back to the examination table.” For a split second, he thought he could see their gaze soften at him. Were they seriously entertaining the idea that he was being nice to them? Coriolanus just didn’t want to deal with their sounds while he worked. It’d be like trading one screaming fit for another, for when he had to go on his date with Livia later in the evening. 

They nodded, and followed his command, walking back to sit on top of it. Their body was sitting in his direction though, observing, waiting for him. Coriolanus still felt unsure about them, but… it was strange, their obedience. It made him suspicious of its intent with all this. Trailing back to the center of the examination room, he placed all the tools on a metal tray. Pulling out an exam stool from under one of the tables, he set the syringe to the cap of its prescription. He pulled the plunger of the syringe up, watching as the barrel filled up with medicine, until it sat nicely. The needle left smoothly from the cap, and a drop of the liquid dangled at the edge of it. This form of silence he liked far more better. 

“...Do you have family, Dr. Snow?” 

So close. Coriolanus flicked the needle harshly, the drop hitting somewhere else. He placed the ready syringe down, and picked up the black marker. Turning back towards them, their head rested in their palms, watching him intensely. 

“That’s none of your concern. Now please, remove your gown so we can get started on the examination.” Grabbing the stool to pull it underneath him, he got comfortable in the seat while it moved to get up. As their hands reached behind them to undo the tie around their waist first, it still spoke ( much to his chagrin ). 

“I was just wondering since Dr. Gaul usually talks whenever she comes to visit.” That explained why their throat was not as hoarse as he was expecting. Dr. Gaul was treating her trials with them as a morning brunch. “She sometimes talks about her day, or talks about her family.” They loosened the tie around their waist, the fabric more flowy around their lower body. Coriolanus stared intently, taking in the first peek of skin. Looking past the scars, despite the stitches pulling at parts of their skin, and the dented scars, their skin looked soft, malleable. They must’ve been popular on weekend nights, back then. Their hands reached up to undo the tie around their collar. Rather than watching him while he worked, it was his turn to watch them. There was that beauty mark on their left acromial. Eyes leisurely trailed back up to their fingers, the smallest note with how it fumbled around behind them to untie the flimsy string. Their movements were clumsy, in his eyes, which almost surprised him. “She likes to talk about her three kids often.”

Coriolanus looked away from their stitched fingers, confusion on his face. 

“Dr. Gaul only has two kids.” He’s seen the photos she has in her office. She has two sons, both who have gone on to have families of their own. Not once has she mentioned a third kid, Coriolanus isn’t even sure it was possible at her age. Didn’t menopause usually affect a person’s chances of getting pregnant? Maybe it was a secret child she had abandoned at the maternal ward while dropping off her resignation as an obstetrician. 

“No, she has three. She told me their names: Caius, Martius, and Coriolanus.” 

Oh. 

Oh, now that’s… 

“I see. You must be closer to Dr. Gaul than I am.” 

He didn’t know what to really say to that. There was really nothing for him to go and argue about, especially with the patient. Coriolanus couldn’t quite outright say that the third child was him, especially when he specifically told them to refer to him by his last name. And if he revealed that this was an entire lie on Dr. Gaul’s end, he wasn’t quite sure how the woman would react for doing so. It wasn’t his place, when he had no idea what Gaul had wanted to achieve. He understood the physical punishment and hypothesis being put upon Project Prometheus, but he had yet to understand where the emotional, and the mental, aspect of this punishment was. Dr. Gaul will tell him if it was needed, or he’ll figure it out based on his own conclusions. That must be one of the purposes Dr. Gaul had assigned this task to him. 

“Alright. I’m done.”

Coriolanus blinked. He didn’t even realize he lost focus on them, he let out a small exhale as he lifted himself from the exam stool, marker ready in hand. 

“Right, for the next step of this exam, I need to…” 

Words trailed off for him. 

What an entirely different view it was, from before, looking at them only from the back. From behind, it was just read to him as a large canvas of skin that had already been stained and painted on. Nothing that gave way to what person under the flesh could be. Yet, the front… There was more to regard and take note of, a far more different feeling than just having viewed from the photos alone in the reports. If he were to ignore the marks left on their body, had they stayed perfect from before, he could’ve made the argument about their body being more alluring than the average Capital citizen. That familiar, dry feeling touched his throat again. What a waste, for genes like that to be wasted on a rebel. There were more beauty marks and moles in the front, along with more stitches and scars. Coriolanus could see the surgical scars that were healing between their pectoralis major area. A curiosity rose, questioning how scarred tissue would feel under his gloves. He raised an eyebrow, as his gaze dared to move to a lower section on their body. Must be for easier mapping, that Dr. Gaul decided it was best to have their pubic area shaved clean.

“...Dr. Snow, are you okay?”

His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips under the surgical mask. 

“Fine, just thinking about Dr. Gaul’s instructions.” He was going to go insane before he could even head to the fundraiser tonight. Coriolanus reached his free hand out, hovering it over their shoulder area, guiding them to stand closer to the area between the exam table, and his stool. He took note, that despite the way their body has changed since their captivity, their body still held a warmth that radiated off from their skin. “Stand here, please. For this next step, I’ll be using this marker here to map out the different muscles and areas on your body. Are you familiar with this?”

The subject nodded, a yes from their lips. 

Good. 

The sound of the marker cap popping off filled in the lack of words on Coriolanus’s part, the black cap falling on the tiled floor and rolling off to a dark, distant corner of the room. “For today, we’ll only be focusing on the external pain chart. Meaning skin surface only,” He lifted the subject’s hair, pushing up against the subject’s head, strands that were long enough to block full access to the neck. Bringing the marker up, he pressed down the chiseled tip of alcoholic ink on the subject’s skin, making the first section of dotted lines. Writing on their skin in careful, small letters, the areas that compromised their neck; the semispinalis capitis, the levator scapulae, the rhomboid minor–

“How long have you worked for Dr. Gaul?”

Fingers nearly stumbled in drawing when the muscle stretched in movement, he lifted the marker carefully away from its skin. The idea of putting in Gaul’s suggestion box the order of a mouth gag was becoming all the more tempting to him. 

“It doesn’t concern you.” Coriolanus responded, coolly. 

He pressed the marker back down on its skin, moving himself to the anterior of its body. Between his gloved fingers, he held their chin. The muscle limp in his hands, letting him lift their chin up to show more, exposing the unfolded expanse of their skin. The project was an annoying one, but at the least,they were a pliant one. The black dotted lines drew itself across the subject’s body: the sternocleidomastoid, the sternohyoid–

“How has your day been so far, Dr. Snow?”

Would Dr. Gaul throw him to the curb if he strangled one of her projects?

Coriolanus lifted himself slightly from his leaned down angle, his fingers that once lifted its chin up, had pulled their chin back down to look at him eye to eye. Its gaze stared back at him with such emptiness, a lack of anything to be seen, no anger, no defiance, no discomfort, not even joy. His eyebrows narrowed down slightly as he took in the face that held no question to how, and what, manner he held their body in. Were they trying to please him? Make his guard drop down by asking questions, hoping that he’d become more sympathetic towards them? 

“Dr. Gaul isn’t here. You are under no requirement to attempt conversations like you’ve done with her.” He spoke, trying his best attempt at sounding sympathetic to their ears. That would be the easiest explanation. The soul of them was sucked out by Dr. Gaul forcing them into an illusion of a grotesque socialite. That’d explain away the project’s incessant speaking. 

Yet, the subject had tilted their head under his fingers. The slightest push against his grasp. 

“... Do you not like talking, Dr. Snow? Dr. Gaul always looks so happy when she’s talking.”

So they were trying to suck up to him. He locked his teeth. And to think, he was giving them a chance of redemption, by assuming that they had been conditioned to engage in meaningless conversation. Maybe he was wrong about their obedience. There was still a spark of a rebel within them regardless of their time, their experiences, in captivity. 

“I only ever see Dr. Gaul, so I got excited to see someone new. I’m sorry for upsetting you,”

They could’ve fooled him with that tone of voice. They sounded as dead as their eyes had looked. Yet, Coriolanus bit his bottom lip as the doubt touched his head; the subject’s stare, if he gazed deeply enough he felt as if he could almost make out a sullenness to them. Were they legitimately apologetic? He didn’t want to even know the answer, he just wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible. He let go of their chin, releasing it. Gloved fingers now traced the space between their shoulder and collarbone, the subject angling their neck to the other side to give him room. He brought the marker back down to their skin, more dotted lines appearing under his wake. 

“... What exactly is your relationship to Dr. Gaul, if I may ask?” He hated them, he decided. He hated how quickly they managed to rope him into this dumb small talk. It was almost audible, the sound of the subject blinking, feeling their gaze boring under the layers of his clothes. Did he say the wrong thing? Did they not want conversation? He adjusted the weight of his stance, uncomfortable under the silence the subject had unwillingly placed him in. Was he not doing what they wanted, was that not enough for them?

“Dr. Gaul is…” Their words trailed off. They were trying to find the words, unsure of what to say to him. They most likely didn’t want to try and insult her, considering her assistant was in the room with them. They don’t want to risk possibly earning more punishment. Project Prometheus may have been smarter than what he initially assumed. Coriolanus moved back to the posterior, hands trailed themselves across the subject’s shoulders, feeling, to remind him of the muscle underneath before he marked it down. Trapezius. 

“Dr. Gaul is my caretaker, I think.” 

Well isn’t that something unique. 

If the subject had decided to say captor, overseer, punisher, he wouldn’t have cared. It would’ve been honest. Caretaker? That was something different, that was something sympathetic. The thought of them turning this twisted dynamic into something heartfelt, fell sour on his tongue. It made him feel repulsion towards them. Why bother to lie? “Tell me about that.” His voice was soft, inviting the project to open themselves to him. As the marker continued to mark their skin, Coriolanus took one of its arms under his hand. The subject’s fingers twitched slightly, when he brought his hand under theirs. Their hand was not that big in comparison to his own, unable to fully fill out of his palm. The fingertips were usually the more sensitive parts, when it came to sensations. He hummed. Adductor pollicis. 

“...I’m not sure how to describe it well.” They sounded unsure. Spending this extended amount of time with them, Coriolanus could make out the slight tonal differences they had in their voice. It was very small, though. The muscles in his hands seem to slightly tense.

“Do your best for me.” 

Their fingertips, the slightly yellowed nails, tapped slightly at the latex material of his gloves. Almost as if fidgeting to gather the words, the right ones, to say to him. 

“Dr. Gaul has always been… someone there, I suppose.” Because she has to. “The guards are there too, but they don’t really notice me in the way Dr. Gaul does.” He wrote down on another part of the subject’s arm, drawing another dotted line. Brachioradialis. “Even though the tests kind of hurt, but I’m getting used to it now, she’s been the only one so far to give me a name, a birthday, check up on me, tell me about her day,” He was almost impressed at how their were trying to upsell the ‘normalcy’ of their captivity. A new name and birthday? Maybe the secret third child of Dr. Gaul wasn’t him, but actually them instead. He almost laughed aloud at the prospect of it. Coriolanus turns to the other side of their body, taking the other arm of the subject to write on after finishing the other. Biceps brachii. “That’s like a caretaker, right?” And now it was asking for his confirmation? It truly does want to appease him. He let out another hum, as if he was thinking to himself when he was going to go along with their delusions. “It sounds like Dr. Gaul cares a great deal for you.” He lied to them. 

Making his back to the anterior of the subject’s body, he stood in front of them, the subject tilting their head up to him. Project Prometheus was shorter, in comparison to him, standing at eye level against his chest. Latex touched the area of the linea alba, Coriolanus kept his gaze steady on them and they did the same. There was a silence that fell between them, but it felt so uninviting to him now that he finally had it. The subject still held their indifference, their apathy, and he wanted to know why it bothered him so much when he should like how easy of a prisoner they were being. No, there had to be something more. There was always something more. His fingers dragged down their skin, and his marker followed behind, writing down the names of the muscles he touched. The subject had moved their arms, and Coriolanus tensed for a second, thinking they were finally going to react, going to grab him, hit him, something – yet, their arms shifted away from the angle of his body, moving in to hold the muscles of the pectoralis major up in their hands, cupping them. They were making more room for him to write on their upper abdomen. 

Coriolanus loathed them. 

Had he had half the control, he would’ve smacked the stitched hands away. He liked it far more when they acted like a ragdoll, instead of this game of pacification it was trying to play. Writing down on the external oblique aponeurosis, he brought his hands back up their skin until it rested under their wrists. He held both their wrists on either hand. “Please, bring your hands down so I can continue mapping.” The words came out more as a whisper than he had intended. They instantly had listened to his command, letting their arms fall back on either side and their chest exposed to him. His eyes lingered briefly on the sight, taking in the small details that made the subject unique. The beauty mark on their left mammary gland, now in his line of sight. No longer blocked by the limit of only just a photo. There was that dry feeling in his mouth again. 

Carefully, bringing a hand up, gauging their reaction, he held one of the mammary glands in his free hand and a marker up in the other. Judging their face, they seemed neutral, no frown or smile, no wrinkle, no squint. He could assume there must have been discomfort under those dark pits for eyes. He knew that’s what he felt, doing this right now. Coriolanus wondered if it would have been better or worse, if Project Prometheus were to be more… reactionary. 

“Let me know if anything bothers you.” Dotted lines followed after his hand. He’d take it, the laborious small talk. It was much more preferred right now than this tortuous silence that had fallen between them. Thick and constricting, had it gone on any longer, Coriolanus knew he would drive himself internally insane if he was to be left alone to his own thoughts. If Project Prometheus had done nothing while he was holding onto their very own breasts in his hands. Had it been any other person, they would’ve squirmed under his touch. Possibly even a twitch to unconsciously move away, as the marker moved against the skin of the areola. The mapping of the right gland was dotted and marked completely. 

“You don’t bother me.” 

Now, that felt deliberate. 

Ink halted, stopping after writing out the final letter of the pectoralis minor. The words were written next to the beauty mark he had noted before. Coriolanus was tempted to make dotted lines around the area, as a place of special interest, though marks like these were no major muscle or nerve. Blue eyes had looked up through thick lashes, he slightly lifted his craned head up to get a better look at the subject. Peering towards their face, he didn’t know why he expected anything different. It was the same look of disinterest, the broken lights hung above them casted a haunting shadow over their face. Did he also look similar, when they stared back at him? In certain angles, despite the unnerving look the room had given them, Coriolanus might’ve thought their eyes seemed naturally soft towards him. Innocent, maybe. 

Did they see nothing wrong with what he was doing? … Or had all the tests and operations ruined not just their nerves, but fried them, that their sense of danger seemed near non-existent? 

Was this another form of appeasement that it was trying to pull on him? 

Unconsciously, his hands had released themselves, finally, from holding onto Project’s Prometheus’s breasts. Both now marked, his free hand slid down the expanse of their abdomen. The ridges and bumps of their scars and stitches were felt briefly, the full grasp of the sensation blocked by the barrier of latex rubber wrapped around his fingers. Not once did he look away from the subject as his hands made its way down, and neither did Project Prometheus. His hand stopped at the tensor fasciae latae. Something was wrapping itself around the cavity of his chest, making the activity of breathing a difficult feat for him to do. Coriolanus didn’t know what he was doing. Was he trying to garner a bigger reaction from it? An attempt of possibly stirring violence, even? 

Maybe it was delaying his own discomfort, he realized. Looking down, he stared to see the spread of skin below that had no splotches of black ink. They were shorter than him, he’d have to get down on his knees if he wanted to have clear and easy access to mark its legs. How humiliating… Having risen up through the ranks and bringing the Snow family back to its rightful place of acclaim and fortune; only to fall back down on his knees to a prisoner, a former rebel. If the other families caught wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it. 

Reluctantly, still holding onto their hip, his body moved itself to the floor. Knees touched against the uneven grout of the tiles, the position a bit awkward. He was thankful, for the surgical gown he wore, that the vile floor of the examination room wouldn’t stain against his clothes. Tracing his hand down to the stitch mark path of their leg, he rested it at the back of their thigh. Coriolanus tilted his head up, ready to command that Project Prometheus moved their leg more towards him. But, his words fell into a silent, held breath as he gazed up at them from his position. The shadow that had cascaded over their face briefly from before was now entirely enveloped around their body. Sickly green fluorescent lights shone above their head, akin to a haloing effect. Illuminated around the edges of their body, their hair, the subject still looking at him. Only him, and nothing else. A thrumming noise was loud in his ears; it felt dangerous. It felt like a warning that something was wrong here. He had felt it before.

Project Prometheus moved its leg forward, more into him, without a word ever spoken between the two of them. How pliant it was with him. 

He pressed the marker against their skin as thank you, dipping his head back down to their thigh. It would be risky, if he lost focus. There was still so much he had yet to know of the subject, the layers that were contained behind the flimsy shield of flesh and tissue. He dotted the area of the vastus medialis, careful not to press the ink against the subject’s stitches so as not to irritate the healing skin there. Maybe its attempts of appeasement were working on him. Not once did he think he’d have a shred of enough care to think about the possibility of ink seeping into their wounds. 

He marked down the region of the knee. Patella. 

“...You’re a very gentle person, Dr. Snow.” The subject spoke quietly, in a whisper just loud for him to hear. “You treat me so carefully, I barely feel a thing when you hold me.” 

It mistook his lightweight hands for kindness. Reality was that he was just wary about setting them off. 

“Does Dr. Gaul not treat you in the same manner?” The words came out softly from him. Reaching now the ankle of the subject, gloved hands reached down underneath the sole of its foot, lifting it up for better writing access. Instinctively, Project Prometheus placed their hands on either side of his shoulders so as to not fall. Their body leaned itself more into him, using him as a steady weight of support. The proximity of their small body bent over his, the glare of the fluorescent lights was entirely swallowed up, casting a dark shadow over him, blocking the light from reaching him. Could they feel, under their ragged fingers, the tenseness in his body at their action? If the subject wanted to, they could easily go in to attack him in this vulnerable position. He’d do the same if he was in their position. He continued to write, marker steady in hand. There would be no satisfaction to be gained for the subject, in seeing him stumble and cower. 

He wrote the words ‘abductor hallucis’ on their foot.

“She… does not treat me rough, no. If I had to describe it, I think the word for it is more… ‘inanimate’.” He doesn’t quite recall if a new law was passed that required captors to treat prisoners humanely. It sounded as if it was trying to recall certain words again. Should the exam go entirely smoothly with no problems, he might feel generous enough to convince Dr. Gaul to bring Project Prometheus a dictionary for them to study up on. Not like it would do much. It wasn’t like they had anyone to really practice their knowledge on. 

Coriolanus wondered what the prisoner was exactly before all this, back when they were formerly Capital. They lacked the air of dignity and ignorance that most Capital elites donned well, but maybe that could be attributed to their decay while staying here. Or perhaps the prisoner had come from a small, simple family. The kind that handled all the manual labor that the Capital never liked to speak loud about. The workers who were hardly ever seen, or acknowledged. That could explain why he never heard any recent fuss over a family’s child being ‘sent away’. No one would ever care for a background prop. 

It held onto his shoulders more tightly, as he adjusted the subject’s position. It didn’t want to topple over him. 

Project Prometheus's right foot now marked accordingly, he placed its foot back down on the rotten floor. Ready to reach his hand to hold onto their left, the subject moved without the need for his touch. The left leg was gestured forward for him. How sweet of them to realize a pattern. “I don’t mind it, though. As long as she still talked to me.” How fascinating. The subject was pacified by the easy act of conversation. Such a simple thing to be pleased by, Coriolanus could think they were joking. Regardless of how things were going so far, he still didn’t forget it. The bloodstains on the halls was something he could not erase so easily. That suggested, no, it told him, that Project Prometheus had something up their sleeve still. Though, nothing had occurred. Nothing had happened because they were still speaking to each other. Coriolanus continued to write on its foot. Lumbrical.

“...Do you get upset if she doesn’t speak to you?” 

He couldn’t help but ask. 

He wanted to know. He needed to know. 

“...I get lonely, and sad.” Was it trying to downplay its emotional reactions to him? “I wonder if it's because I did something wrong to upset her.” If a prisoner of his tried to fight back numerous times during their captivity, he’d get annoyed too. It was strange, though. Coriolanus knew that morals and values were of no concern for Dr. Gaul, especially against rebels. Any torture, punishment, placed on them was not seen as being done onto another person, but just another animal, a specimen in her collection. It would not be above Dr. Gaul to cut off a limb, or two, to get a prisoner to stop fighting. So… why not do the same here? Perhaps, this form of mental and emotional punishment was more lethal than he assumed. Another curious test from the mad woman, it was impossible to ever understand her whims. 

“Sometimes, I think it might be one of her tests.”

Coriolanus didn’t say those words. 

He didn’t like this. Such a statement, spoken so simply, brought him a sick swirl of unease. 

The movement of ink had halted, yet his mind continued to race. The thin hairs at the back of his neck stood at its ends, and he held tightly onto the marker in his hand. Quietly, carefully, he placed the plantar surface of Project Prometheus’s foot back down on the uneven tiles below the both of them. Reaching his hands up to his shoulders, where the subject’s extensor retinaculum were, he held onto it firmly. The subject put up no sign of objection. Sweat was slowly building up under the tight material of the gloves he donned on, but it was not a sweltering warmth. It was a cold, clammy sensation. 

“What do you mean by ‘one of her tests’?” Punctuating the words at the end, he kept his tone inquisitive, curious. Perhaps, a dabble of suspicion. Not towards the subject, but more towards the matter. What was needed in this situation was caution, and he’d be a gutted fool if he was to let the rebel become aware of how much the question startled him to his core. For right now, he’d play the gentle, confused assistant that it assumed of him before. He already told the lie of it knowing Dr. Gaul better than he did. 

“Her tests,” 

It spoke as if he knew! He knew very well what it was. What once was a flash of fear, had become a steady stream of anger. He knew because he is Dr. Gaul’s assistant. It was his job to follow in the steps she’s placed out for him, and more. Why would a prisoner, a subject, know about the ways Dr. Gaul operated? How much does Dr. Gaul tell it in these ‘conversations’? 

It made him sick, that the lie he told before could actually become true. 

“I never notice it until it’s done, until she tells me at the end. She never shares the results with me.” For once, he is tempted to strip his pride and beg for more details. “Most days, it’ll be physical tests, like today. Others, it’s more… talking, or writing.” 

“Writing?” 

It came out quickly before he could properly think his words over. He doesn’t recall seeing possible writing exams in Subject A01’s report. To be fair to himself, he did skim it briefly since he was only just now introduced to the project. There wasn’t much time for him to familiarize himself with all the tiny details written inside. At least, the things that were legible. 

“Dr. Gaul hands me scraps of paper and just asks me to write what I think. Like uh, a journal…I guess.” Keeping a diary couldn’t be the only test Dr. Gaul was having it do. If writing random streams of thought was enough to be intellectually challenging, he wouldn’t be seeing students at the University fighting to win passing grades. “I don’t understand the reason why, and I never remember what I write. My memory is not the best.” It was giving him an excuse to try and shift the conversation. How funny it was, trying to take control of the situation. He’d never let such a thing happen. In this examination room, there was only one person and a subject, the dynamic that was at play was clear. The grip Coriolanus had on their extensor retinaculum tightened, an unconscious movement on his part. Project Prometheus had taken in a soft breath of air at the action, the sound loud enough between the both of them. Had it not come from a prisoner, what a sweet sound it could’ve been. 

“Could you explain it to me,” His voice came out softly, despite the gnawing irritation that he held back. The tight grasp he had loosened, one hand stroking down a careful thumb down the stitched wrist of the subject in gentle circles. He shifted in his kneeled position, adjusting to a more comfortable weight as the layers he wore started to wear at him, an uncomfortable shift. Wearing the surgical uniform could be sweltering. Tilting his head up slightly to gaze up at the subject, praying that his eyes did not betray and reveal his inner thoughts. “Try to remember.” 

Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a slight falter, a tremble, in the dark optics of Project Prometheus. Its supercilium furrowed just the slightest inch upwards; did it look apologetic? The first visible change of expression he’s witnessed in the time he’s spent here in this examination room, and it’s one of regret. The subject’s fingers twisted itself into the fabric of his surgical gown, opening its mouth partially as they sought the right sound, the right word. He could make out the faint peeks of its canines. 

“... I’m sorry, Dr. Snow. I can’t remember at all,” They breathed out, in admission, surrendering. It treated it as a guilty confession. 

“Not a thing?” He whispered softly to them, prompting them to speak more. Coriolanus applauded himself internally, for how sympathetic he sounded. 

The subject shook its head. 

“My memory is not good.” Again, it reaffirmed its previous statement. 

Was his question that hard? Surely, specks of small details, flashes of imagery, that would be sufficient enough of an answer for him. He wasn’t asking for a full essay of their inner workings ( though, he wouldn’t mind it ). However, as both their eyes continued locked in a stare, his thumb slowed its movements. The leathered finger stopping at the center junction of its stitches, the feel of the raised, textured skin apparent under the feel of the material. Project Prometheus was being sincere. Its face hadn’t changed, its body had not moved away from him. Dare he say, the minimal space between them; something he did not mind earlier before, had become much more apparent in his feverish mind. The subject answered him so honestly, it made his suspicions of before seem so ridiculous now. One thing did nag at him though, the writing, the insistence of journaling, the memory. 

…

“... Do you remember how long you’ve been here?” Two years ago, Coriolanus recalled. Two years ago, that was when he was abandoned in District 12. When Dr. Gaul had started the experiment on Subject A01, busying herself with curiosities while he was drowning himself in depravities and vices, waiting out like a dog for some form of mercy to reach him. 

A new, tense silence consumed them both. He watched the subject carefully, taking note of the slightest movement that could give any indication of anything more. Tracing with his eyes, following how Project Prometheus’s cuspid snagged at their chapped bottom lip. A faint flush of red spread across the muscle, from the pressure exerted on it. Unconsciously, it reminded him of how dry his own mouth felt, the hoarse sensation in his throat. He darted out his own tongue for a brief moment to wet his own mouth, hidden underneath the surgical mask he wore. Nothing was being said between them, but yet there was so much being told. A fierce feeling was soaring, running through the veins of Coriolanus; he knew what it meant and he feared for it. Not for what the answer could be, but what it possibly could bring up. 

“You don’t remember how you got it here at all, do you?” His voice was so hushed, spoken as if taboo. It gave him the same feeling of it, the rush as the blood was entering his head and his heartbeat loud in his ears. 

A form of dissociative amnesia. 

Project Prometheus had developed gaps in memory due to an extended amount of isolation and exposure to severe trauma. It all clicked in Coriolanus’s head. He understood now what Dr. Gaul was attempting to achieve in her games with the subject. The tests, the daily conversations, the journal writing – Dr. Gaul was examining the subject’s mental decay as part of the Project’s ongoing research. Not only has the woman deteriorated and changed the way the prisoner’s nerves had worked, but their mind as well. Is continuing the Project even viable to do anymore? It was a form of punishment. Would it be ethical to operate on a being of flesh, when the subject no longer knew what it was being punished for? The question would most likely give Dr. Gaul a kick of joy. She loved to ponder questions worthy of debate. Coriolanus wouldn’t put it past the woman if she already gave the inquiry out to one of her classes in a lecture hall. 

“I vaguely do,” 

His eyebrows rose in interest. 

“But only in subtle feelings.” 

Nevermind. 

“I think I experienced some form of confusion. And bits of anger, too. Dr. Gaul… For a moment, I used to be so scared of her. Now, I can’t even remember the reason why.” 

Project Prometheus’s indifference, Coriolanus realized, it was not just solely based on apathy. What had become of it was a blank state, unsure of how to process things so the mind refused to process it all. But, it was still something highly susceptible to influences, shown in how Project Prometheus had become conditioned like Pavolv Dog, to associate Dr. Gaul’s silence with anger and disappointment, and her socialness with satisfaction and joy. It all was dawning on him. He could see it now, why Dr. Gaul was so disturbingly fascinated by this project. Gloved hands moved away from the subject’s wrist, and reached out to lay in gentle manner against the side of their bare thighs. The subject allowed him to, never raising a sign of objection. Could he teach it to experience anger once more, when he treated their body like this? Maybe discomfort, disgust, despair - he wanted to show their blank canvas of a mind what it felt like to fully immerse themselves in these ugly emotions. He knew why they were like this, but there still was a lingering crumb of vexation directed at the subject. Somehow, in their newfound state, they still felt far more free than he ever did; how they almost felt nothing, and he had to feel everything. 

And yet, there was another thought that touched him. He wondered, if he spent enough time with the subject, could he too, be able to condition them to other things. They thought of him as merciful, kind, in comparison to Dr. Gaul. Could he make Project Prometheus worship him, and in the same quiet breaths they were fond of, resent him? The thought of making them accustomed to anticipating his attendance, and lamenting his absence sounded tempting. 

How nice it would be, to have someone other than a deranged crone enjoy his presence. 

Tigris certainly didn’t anymore. 

Coriolanus rose himself from the ground, gripping on the meat of Project’s Prometheus’s flesh to lift him. Under his touch, the pliant stretch of skin and tissue made the subject remove their hands from his shoulders. Another faint breath escaped their exhale. It was a sound he was slowly getting used to. Back to their original height difference, he no longer had to crane his head up to look at the subject. The subject had to lift their head up to look up at him, now. What did Project Prometheus see, in their gaze as they stared at him, Coriolanus thought. Was he too, consumed in shadow and bathed under the gritty lights of the examination room like they once had? 

“We’re done with the mark-up.” It took him a moment to move away from the subject. “We’ll move to holding the nerve exam now, after I administer a low dosage of your medication.” 

The uncapped, black marker was placed back down on the metal tray, aside from the examination table. Replacing its empty space was now the syringe he had filled out before, the dark color swishing as he picked it up. The needle gleamed under the fluorescent light. Turning his back around, Project Prometheus had already sat themselves up nicely on the edge of the examination table for him. Their legs dangled off, their hands held at the edges of the worn-out leather cushion, eyes fixated on his person. They were waiting for him. He’s almost bothered, how easily the subject could anticipate his next set of commands. He hoped that this was just due to routine, not because he had become easy to read. Coming up to meet them there, the only sound that filled the air was the sole of his shoes stepping against the tiles. Gloved fingers reached to grab at the jaw of Project Prometheus, the syringe held close to their face. It shone particularly brilliant, mere inches away from their face. The subject showed him no fear, no resistance, despite the way the skin of the cheeks had moved under his grasp. 

Already, he wanted to break them.

“Show me where to inject you.” 

He’d be sweet, Coriolanus would let them pick where it was most comfortable for him to inject the medication in. Project Prometheus complied immediately to him, holding on the hand that held their needle to adjust the position. They guided him to the back of their neck, moving their hair to make space. To reward their compliance, he pricked the syringe quickly under the skin, careful not to touch an artery or nerve. The dark liquid inside the barrel slowly filled out, emptying itself as he pushed the plunger down. The subject did not let out a sound, a favorable contrast to Livia, who waited for him outside these Citadel walls. 

He was going to mold them into something useful.

[pharawee]

Welcome to the second part of my Pit Babe novel commentary aka "hey this isn't so ba---wait where's Babe's sudden daddy kink even coming from??"

And I try (oh my god do I try). 🤡

I'm now at chapter 10, trying to pace myself because the (auto-translated) translation I'm reading is apparently a WIP. I'm on the edge of my seat. The plot is beginning to thicken.

Previously, Charlie was being sus and Babe was catching feelings, but most importantly there was a lot of pwp and very little racing.

Now there's more racing. Babe even brings Charlie (he still has to wear a mask and a hat) but gets too distracted by his presence (he's apparently addicting enough to kiss through the mask) and promptly forgets to check his car before the race (even though Charlie warns him against it but such is the power of scent - or lack of scent in this case. I don't even know anymore - neither does Babe but at some point Charlie states that's he's now in an alpha rut which I suppose means exactly what it says on the tin).

But, oh no! Babe runs into trouble during the race. He loses the lead and his car gets increasingly difficult to control until it crashes and bursts into flames. But it's okay, Babe jumps out of the driving car just in the nick of time (have you ever seen a supercar outfitted for racing? It's difficult enough to climb into one - funny how I'm apparently okay with omegaverse shenanigans but I draw the line at wonky motorsports physics 🤣).

Anyway, the track marshals are doing a really shit job because somehow they 1. let Charlie on the track to singlehandedly try and rescue Babe and 2. they also completely miss that Babe has literally jumped ship car and is lying on the track. He ends up with a broken wrist and a sprained knee (or was it the other way around? anyway, he's wearing several casts) which means he won't be able to finish the season and lose the title of King (all because he was too horny to check his car... but yeah also apparently it was sabotage  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ).

So much for the racing part.

Babe needs weeks to heal so naturally he needs Charlie to pamper and feed him and dick him down several times a day but what else is new. No offence to the the dicking down part but ugh I hate this trope. Maybe it's just because I dislike the dynamics but I don't like the way Babe is taking on more and more cliché omega traits. If I have to read one more time about how much smaller he is (or about his "rounded" hips... are you ok google translate?)...

Oh, and btw. There are omegas in this! Charlie gets flirted at by one (which Babe absolutely hates) and he does have a scent and all. Later, when Charlie is busy being extremely sus again he meets up with a childhood friend, Jeff (Pon's character in the series is called Jeff - oh. oh no...), and if I'm not mistaken he's an omega as well. Jeff cautions Charlie against being with Babe and displeasing his father (which also seems to be Jeff's father? Dude sure has a lots of adoptive kids...) but Charlie argues that he knows what he's doing and he doesn't want to stop anyway.

Later on he tells the exact same thing to his (adoptive?) father, and why do I get the feeling that this might be the same father Babe mentioned earlier when he was telling a feverish Charlie a story to get him to sleep:

In his story, Babe mentions how when he was very small he used to go hungry every day because his mum was out of the picture and his father didn't even make enough money bring food to the table. One day the hunger was so bad that he passed out and woke up in the hospital where a stranger told him he'd be his new family. With little choice in the matter, Babe accepted and went on to spend the rest of his childhood well-cared for and in elite schools etc. That is, until he turned (presumably...) 18 and discovered that his father didn't adopt him out of the kindness of his heart but for ulterior motives that Babe doesn't explain any further because at that point Charlie has fallen asleep.

So yeah, what are the odds that Babe's "father" and Charlie's father are the same person (no spoilers, please)? Because if so then... that's disturbing, especially since Charlie's father seems to want Charlie to lure Babe back home. I mean, Charlie seems to have his own plans but it's not like his father throws him out after their secret meeting. Sus, very sus.

Meanwhile, Babe is slowly losing his heightened senses (the novel doesn't mention it yet but I'm pretty sure this is Charlie's doing) but he doesn't seem to mind because he's too busy falling in love. There's a lovely scene where Charlie and he spend the night stargazing, and this is when Babe realises that something's different because usually his heart only beats this fast when he thinks about racing (lmao).

Cue to them not having sex for a week because Babe feels like he's going crazy.

Meanwhile, it's been decided that Charlie will finish Babe's racing season for him because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and I'm sure he'll win the title too because he's Charlie, alphaest of alphas. Or something.

So one night Babe officially introduces him to the rest of team X-Hunter (and curiously Sonic and North seem to be racers in the novel as well) but things go awry when Babe is too busy fooling around with Way (no you cannot be affectionate with a male friend in a BL novel it is forbidden!!). Charlie and Babe argue and proceed to ignore each other for the rest of the night until they make up (and out) during the official X-Hunter sleepover (with Way and another poor dude sleeping in the same room).

They're polite enough to seek out the indoor pool (this isn't even their house - have you no shame?) and talk it out. And by talk it out I mean there's an inappropriate amount of daddy-calling and Little Mermaid jokes. This is where Charlie claims Babe. Yes, there's knotting (I think? like I said, I'm not axactly an expert and auto-translate is a bit vague, bless its little AI heart). Charlie threatens (I'm sure it's all meant very lovingly 🤡) to impregnate Babe if there's no other way to show others that he's his. To which Babe replies that that's impossible anway.

It's impossible, right? Right??

[peachhcs]

will surprising sam and coming out to visit her at mich and going to her game

something other than hockey

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

ugh yes she has no idea he's coming until she wins the game and sees him after. later that night, they go out together getting somehwat drunk and then cuddling up togther on the couch.

2k words

warnings: underage drinking but that's really it

au masterlist

michigan led the score 3-2 with two minutes left in the final half. the crowd in the stands were on their feet going crazy and cheering on the lady wolverines to keep up their lead. the ohio state women played dity earning themselves and the michigan red and yellow cards left and right. samy scaled the field with her teammates trying to recapture the ball while trying to watch her back after getting herself a yellow card ten minutes earlier for pushing one of the other girls over. 

ellen and jim were on their feet watching the game in anticipation with nearly every single men's hockey player scattered across the stands watching their favorite hughes play. ethan and mark stood at the front of it all making their section the most rowdiest. the two convinced their teammates to come out since it was the final home game and if they won this game, the girls advanced the elite eight—so much closer to the national championships. 

"let's go! run it up the field!" ethan hardly had a voice left as it rasped in his throat. 

the timer quickly itself down now with only 90 seconds left in the game. samy yelled things to her teammates as they started running towards the goal with the ball in their clutch. 

"take the shot! you've got time!" mark's voice was hardly there either. 

anytime the two went to samy's games they came back with a lot less voice than they started with. sometimes samy thought they were crazy for screaming at every game because a lot of the times they were the only ones screaming at the top of their lungs. 

one of the ref's whistles blew making a sign for a time out from ohio's side. everyone let out a collective, half annoyed sigh as the teams huddled together. 

"dunno why they're calling a time out. there's a minuet left and we have the ball. there's no way they're gonna score," ethan mumbled with a shake of his head. 

"osu's gonna dig for every chance they can get. i doubt they're gonna give it up that easily," jim mentioned. 

ethan and mark took the small break as an opportunity to rehydrate and hopefully make their throats less dry. "how you doing, smitty?" ethan shifted his attention to samy's boyfriend sitting to his right. 

the girl actually had zero idea will was in town for the weekend. it was his mission to finally surprise her and with this weekend being game less, of course he'd never pass up the opportunity to see his girl. 

was he missing all the practices this weekend? yes. would his coaches kill him for not being there? probably. would he sit bench at the next game? most likely. 

did will care? no. not at all. 

for once in his near 18-year playing career, he finally had something other than hockey to think about. hockey wasn't his number one anymore, nor would it ever be as long as samy was in life. 

"i'm good. getting worked up about this game," the blonde responded to ethan's question.

th older boy quickly nodded in agreement, "osu's playing like shit, yet we're getting all the cards." 

"the coach knows what he's doing. i think he's scared of samy knowing how well she's played this past season for only being a freshman," mark commented and the boys nodded in agreement. 

the whistle blew again and the girls got back into position. everyone's eyes were on samy as she traveled up the field alongside her teammates. something about the way she communicated and moved with four other girls reminded will a lot of his line with gabe and ryan. 

"put it in! show 'em what we got!" luca yelled from the back. 

the timer shrunk down to 40 seconds left. 

one of the girls passed the ball samy's way as she ran up the field towards the goal. osu's defense was strong, but boy was the youngest hughes stronger and smarter than them. 

"20 seconds!" ethan yelled. 

the crowd began counting down with the timer, so samy took her chances with putting it in. with her momentum from sprinting up the field, she did a near corner kick towards the goal. time slowed itself as everyone's eyes watched the ball soar through the air. 

osu's goalie jumped up, but she missed it by half an inch, so the ball scraped right past her finger tips and into the back of the net. 

screams erupted from the entire student section. the umich girls stormed the field in celebration while the boys jumped up in victory, immediately hugging one another. 

"for the first time in program history, the lady wolverines will continue on dancing to the elite eight! congratulations!" the announcer exclaimed through the speakers. 

will followed after the group of now excited hockey boys to the field to congratulate samy. he had been so wrapped up in the game that his nerves about surprising samy hadn't made themselves known until now. a crowd of students were already on the field sending their congratulations to the players it was hard keeping track of everyone. 

the blonde stuck himself close to ethan in fear that he'd get separated and lose the group. sweaty bodies hit into will almost knocking him sideways followed by a half apology that didn't really mean sorry. the boy quickly scanned people's faces hoping samy was somewhere close by and they could all leave the now crowded field. 

suddenly, someone squealed and ethan stopped walking. will's eyes flicked back over and he quickly caught sight of the girl wrapped up in mark's arms. all of the hockey boys crowded around the youngest hughes basically blocking will from her view. 

the blonde shifted on his feet waiting for her to finally notice him. his heart rate felt like it was pounding through his chest and he didn't know why. it was samy. his girlfriend. 

maybe will was freaked because this was the first time they've seen one another since summer ended and they went to college. talking over the phone and texting was one thing, but seeing one another in person was another. they only had two months of being in a relationship in person before college cut a wedge between that. 

finally, ethan stepped side, his eyes finding will's with a tiny smirk. samy followed the older boy's gaze in slight confusion before she met gazes with will. 

she stared at him for a good five seconds before jumping into his arms which almost sent both of them to the ground. 

"you're here. what are you doing here?" samy's grip was strong around will's neck. the boy smiled into her skin, breathing her in. 

"came to surprise you. got in this afternoon," he explained. 

having her in his arms and the way she held onto him eased all of the worries he had minutes before this. god, it felt so good. 

"don't you have practice? how'd you get out of it?" samy pulled back to see her boyfriend's face. he smiled a bit, putting her down, but not letting go. 

"i mean.. i didn't i just kind of left," will shrugged. 

"your coach is gonna kill you," samy couldn't believe he was skipping an entire weekend of practice for her. 

"they can do whatever they want to me if it means i get to spend a weekend with you," the blonde smiled softly. 

his words made the girl blush a deep crimson and it got even worse when he leaned down to connect their lips in a sweet kiss. the hockey players still watching smiled at the interaction along with ellen and jim. 

remembering that everyone was still watching them, samy carefully directed will's lips away from hers for the time being. he pouted some. "later," the girl mumbled before stepping away from him to greet her parents. 

"i gotta change and debrief the team. i'll catch you guys in like 20 minutes if you wanna wait around," the brunette looked back at everyone. 

"you got it little hughesy," ethan threw a thumbs up in her direction. 

the girl chuckled. she kissed will's cheek one last time before running off to join her teammates as they began walking back into the sports complex. a minute later, ethan jumped onto will's shoulders, a large grin on his lips. 

"i think that definitely went well. what do you think?" the older brunette asked. 

"definitely. thanks for getting me here," will grinned. 

"anytime, smitty. you're like our little brother now," ethan looked at mark who nodded. 

the younger boy smiled to himself at the boys' words.

—

later that night, samy and will found themselves tucked away in a corner couch at the senior hoceky house. truscott threw, so of course the invite opened itself to the youngest hughes and will. it was a good way to celebrate with some of her favorite people after today's big win.

the two made their rounds saying hi to everyone, but samy found them a couch off in a side room. the alcohol buzzed through their systems—sometimes samy had a hard time saying no when someone offered her a shot. plus, she thought she deserved it, too.

will definitely wouldn't pass up free alcohol, so he followed the girl's lead. now, the couple cuddled into one another letting the party drown out around them.

"'m glad you're here. i missed you," samy mumbled with a soft smile.

will's learned that samy became extremely affectionate and talkative whenever she was drunk, but he certainly didn't mind. he'd listen to her talk for hours.

"missed you too, pretty girl. feels like it's been forever," will hummed, eyes never leaving hers.

a small frown replaced the smile, "i know. wish we didn't live so far apart now. facetime isn't the same."

"winter break is soon, though. we'll get to see each other then."

"if my parents let me go to sweden. boston and another country are two completely different things," the brunette mumbled.

will almost forgot he was going to sweden for the us world juniors. that seemed so far away and now it was almost here. he squeezed samy's thigh that was draped across his lap.

"still can't believe you skipped practice to come see me," the girl changed the subject for now. her grin returned earning a smile from will.

"well what else am i gonna do? not see you until who knows when?" the blonde playfully raised his eyebrow.

"never known you to skip hockey practice for someone, especially a girl," samy chuckled. her hands reached up to play with will's curls on the nape of his neck not covered by the hat he had on.

her touch sent sparks down his spine and a little skip in his heartbeat.

"i guess things change."

"if you could rank them, what's first?" samy kept firing her random questions.

"you," will said without hesitation.

"me?"

"yes, you," the blonde smiled.

"you're lying," a laugh escaped the girl's lips as if she didn't believe her boyfriend.

"no i'm not," this time it was will's turn to be confused.

samy read his look, gently shoving him away from her, "come on, smitty. you've been focused on hockey for..for since we were born. there's no way anything could ever replace that."

the way she called him smitty, picking it up from gabe and ryan some years ago, did something dangerous to the boy. he gently shook his head, intertwining their fingers.

"that was before i realized i've been missing what's right in front of me all along. it's always you, samy," will said softly creating another deep blush on the girl's cheeks.

"god, you're so corny," the brunette rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

will cupped her cheek, bringing her lips closer to his since their kiss earlier was cut short because of everyone watching them. they connected in another sweet kiss.

samy's lips tasted of strawberries and vodka that only made will kiss her harder wanting to get every inch of that taste off her lips.

[marinetteplztakeabreak]

The arc with the resistance in ml season five???? Is so good????????????? The way that???? Its been going on low-key for a while????? But theres this Massive Shift this season where literally the entire miracuclass stops running away from akumas or hiding???? And its like???? The fear is GONE by the end of the season???? Theyre not scared anymore theyre just pissed off????? At the system???? Not at the akumatized victims???? But also its not a “babying the akumas” thing either like when gabe is akumatized theyre like “WRONG BAD” at him????? Same with chloé???? But like the entire class will see a butterfly and start running TOWARDS it because theyre like “oh no someone needs help goddamit i gotta get there before hawkmoth” and they dont always win and they dont beat themselves up about it???? Like in confrontation, Juleka got akumatized despite their best efforts and theyre all like “ugh this sucks” but no one’s giving up hope or anything???????

And!!!!! The way that the anti-akuma charms work in that episode??????!?!??!?? The way the fandom has this trend of thinking like,,,, the only way to escape akumas is to push emotions away deep deep down,,,, thats how marinette and adrien have kind of been operating?!???? But then it’s revealed on no uncertain terms that the powerups of the anti akuma charms are reactive to emotions?????!?! That pushing things down doesnt help?? you have to Fight Back and FEEL on your own terms and accept others’ help and feelings?????

Juleka shutting down and curling up into a ball and trying to disapear didnt work!!!but her yelling about how its not fair and shes proud of mr damocles despite it all???? like??? Catalyzed the entire anti akuma charm shield thing???????

The way that this season has shown time and again that it’s okay to be mad and frustrated and hate the system and its okay to feel trapped and scared but you have to learn to reach out and find a good outlet for those emotions even if that outlet is yelling with your friends???? instead of isolating yourself and pushing away people who have your best interest at heart????? And lying and pretending it’s okay doesn’t help but looking for bits of real joy and support amidst the chaos does???

The way that ladybug and chat noir started this season as The Most Alone Theyve Ever Been with the miracle box stolen??? and realized by the end that no one needs powers to be heroes??? they just need to be able to trust each other and take turns carrying Hope for the group and remembering whats worth fighting for!? and as long as theres a drive to fight theres always little victories to celebrate??????????!??

(Also the way that Nino—who heads the resistance—literally calls everyone in his group including Bustier Comrade and the way that they talk about how sometimes it feels like no one’s listening and revolution is the only way?? and the way they address fears about spyware and technology only benefitting the elites and the school system being designed without students’ well-being in mind and environmental terror and the police being corrupt and they take all of that and they say “it is Still a worthy battle and it sucks but you are going to be okay,,, just do not give in to hopelessness… find the people who will help you keep fighting and keep believing in a better future and Cherish Them”)

People complain about this show going “off the rails” as it’s switching its target audience and addressing more “mature” themes or whatever but like do you guys understand how much every single narrative decision makes me scream

[wannaeatramyeon]

Could you please make another unhinged reader piece but this time with her going against Charles Choi? (I really love the one you did on Vin Jin!!)

Anon, so so sorry for the delay and tysm for reading! I've been putting off Charles in the first place cos it just seems big y'know?

Unhinged F!Reader links here (or check masterlist): Gun Park | Goo Kim | Samuel Seo | Samuel Seo Part 2 | James Lee/DG | Jinyoung Park | Eli Jang | Tom Lee | Ryuhei Kuroda | Eugene | Vin Jin

Charles Choi with Unhinged F!Reader

"Huh," Charles wonders, "Why do I hear final boss battle music?"

How long has it been since Charles has felt this?

An overwhelming, crushing helplessness.

To think his downfall would come from a nobody. Somebody so insignificant that their existence was completely unknown to him.

An easy, fatal mistake.

"Elite?" the sound of your mocking tone reaches his ears despite the blood trickling out. "Elite compared to what?"

Silly boys and their silly nicknames. They're all the same. Elite, Big Daddy, Rabid Attack Dog, the Legend.

Compensating much? Pathetic.

Some little boys just never grow up, having tasted an ounce of power and thought that was all there was. Such big fishes in a tiny putrid swamp.

Your fingers scrape along Charles' once carefully groomed beard, now smeared with blood and spittle.

"What a silver fox. Guess that's a benefit of you being so past your prime."

The words should hurt, but Charles can face reality. He's no longer the young man he once was. Not sure he would even be a worthy opponent for you if he was.

How strange that in these moments it is Gapryong that he thinks about. How he wasn't really a worthy opponent for Gapryong neither, needing to secure his way to the top with underhanded dealings and James Lee.

Charles drifts in and out, thinking about the Pre-Generation, about Tom Lee and Jinyoung Park.

About how nobody has warned him about you, how he didn't see you coming until it was too late. Swaggering towards him in a deserted street with soulless eyes and a chilling grin.

"Charles Choi?" you had asked, tucking away a slip of paper into your breast pocket, "Or should that be... Elite?"

And that was the beginning of the end.

Or maybe it was the beginning of the end years ago, and now his chickens are coming home to roost.

Charles felt your first lethal attack before he could see it, remaining arm snapping and the heat of blood gushing and pouring out. Voice screaming on reflex before he could register it was his own.

Now, even with you easily in touching distance, Charles can't bring himself to move. He has nothing left to give. And was there ever a time he ever felt truly depleted? Not trying to brute force or scheme his way to the very end?

All fight has left him now.

In his delirium, words escape and leak unhindered under his breath. Some names that ring a bell with you.

You chuckle. "Tom Lee? Jinyoung Park? Oops, I got to them too."

Then you lean down, closing the gap between your bodies, lips ghosting over his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"Gapryong Kim though? I heard you got to him years before I could." You look Charles square in the eye, your words landing and his eyes widen in panic.

His final secret out.

With that you throw your head back laughing, uproariously and deranged. That is what he's worrying about now? What a wretched man.

"I'll give you anything you want," Charles pleads.

Your laughter abruptly stops and replaced with a scathing look. How fucking predictable. Ugh. This whole thing is starting to bore you.

"I've heard it all from that that twink already. Eugene or something. It didn't end well for him."

"Maybe," you think outloud, examining your hands caked almost completely in red, not remembering if you actually painted your nails that colour or if that is Charles' blood too-

"I want your other arm."

"...I see." are his final words to you, recognising any further pleas will fall on deaf ears. Tone calm yet all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

The last thing Charles see before he closes his eyes is the quirk of your lips and bloodlust etched all over your face.

In the darkness, he waits for you to decide his fate and for his empire to crumble.

[galactic-magick]

Beach Day: Adam Warlock x Reader

Summary: Seeing your boyfriend on the beach awakens your insecurities about dating a perfect golden boy, and said boyfriend is more than willing to silence those insecurities.

Words: 0.9k

Warnings: talk of insecurities, also some making out

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You never thought you’d be having a beach day with the Guardians of the Galaxy—but here you are, sitting on a sandy towel within eyesight of beautiful waves. The sky on this planet is a gorgeous purple, reflecting on the water. Phyla, Rocket, and Groot are building the most complex sandcastle you’ve ever seen, Kraglin is using the trees for target practice, and Adam is playing fetch with Cosmo. It’s quite peaceful—a nice slowdown from the last chaotic mission you had.

This was somewhat your idea actually, since you mentioned a memory of going to the beach back home on Earth. Everyone on the team had either never been to a beach before or it had been so long they didn’t remember what it was like, so the next planet you came across you decided to take a mini vacation.

Your boyfriend, Adam, was definitely the most excited. Not only did he want to experience something like this with you, but he never would’ve had something like this with the Sovereign. Beaches are messy, and certainly no place for an elite race of people.

Still, even though Adam’s been removed from that world for over a year now, he continues to be out of place. You watch him as he laughs with the others, the sound of an angel. His hair falls all over the place, but even when it’s tousled it’s still perfect. His golden skin glistens in the sunlight, complimenting the purple sky. His body is perfectly sculpted, not a single flaw in sight. He is gorgeous in every way.

You’ve never told him how it makes you feel sometimes, dating a man who was quite literally designed to be perfect. You’re just a normal Terran, full of blemishes and insecurities. You have more faults and defects than you can count, both on the inside and the outside. You look so plain compared to him, and even beyond appearances you’re not sure how much you really have to offer him.

After the sun sets, you all pack up and head back to the ship for the night to sleep. Adam notices something is off with you as you settle down in your shared quarters, which greatly confuses and concerns him.

“Are you alright?” he asks, taking a step towards you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah I had fun,” you turn your back to him while you change into your pajamas, “I’m fine,”

He grabs the hem of your pajama shirt as you’re putting it on, pulling the rest of it down as his knuckles graze your sides. He then snakes his arms under your arms gently, wrapping them around you in a hug.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,”

You sigh, turning around to face him, “I did have fun. I’m not lying about that part,”

“Good!” he smiles, “But you’re not fine?”

“I’m fine, I’m just...not feeling good about myself,”

An even deeper wave of concern falls over his features, “You don’t feel good? Are you sick?”

You can’t help but laugh despite your melancholy. Sometimes you forget he still doesn’t understand many things.

“Not that kind of not feeling good, more like I don’t like myself right now. I’ve just been getting in my head a lot and overthinking stuff,”

“How could you not like yourself? You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met! Did something happen today that made you feel this way?”

“It’s going to sound so stupid-”

He puts a finger to your mouth, “Hush. It’s not stupid if it hurt your feelings like this,”

“But what if it was you?”

His eyes widen, “I hurt you?”

“Well, no. I don’t know. Ugh…” you sit down on the bed, face in your hands. “You didn’t directly hurt me or anything. I guess...I guess I just don’t understand why someone like you is with someone like me,”

He comes to sit beside you as you continue.

“I mean, you’re so perfect, and I’m very much not. You look like heaven as a person and I can’t find a single thing wrong with you. Watching you on the beach today made me think about how beautiful you are. And it’s not even just that, you’re also the sweetest person ever. You treat me better than anyone I’ve ever been with in the past, and your heart is just as golden as your skin. I just don’t get what you see in me when you’re...well...you,”

Adam is stunned at your words, instantly feeling horrible for indirectly making you feel this way. In his mind, everything is the exact opposite. He sees you as the perfect person, and himself as just a messed up monster with gold plating. He couldn’t possibly put into words what he feels for you and how he sees you.

So rather than fumbling over his words, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you, tenderly and passionately. After caressing and kissing every feature, he moves down to your neck and shoulders, roaming his hands over your back and torso. There’s nothing needy about his movements, only a pure demonstration of his undying love for you.

He doesn’t go too far down before coming back up to capture your lips, remaining there while his hands smooth over the rest of your body. He pulls your close, as close as he can without risking hurting you with his strength. He touches you like you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art created from the divine. He’s grateful beyond belief that you’ve chosen him as a partner, and he knows he wouldn’t be who he is now without you.

He pulls away for a brief minute, looking into your eyes.

“You’re the one who’s perfect, not me,” he says. “Don’t you dare believe anything different,”

You nod in understanding before bringing his lips back to yours, determined to return the intense amount of love he just gave you.

-

-

-

Read this to make a Guardians request!

[kudouusagi]

Buddy Daddies Drama CD Vol 1 – When one door closes, another door opens

*Gun sounds*

*Large explosion*

Video Game: MISSION FAILED!

Rei: Gah...? I lost?

Rei: *Sighs* Right now I'm so... bored...

*Stomach rumbling*

*Presses button on phone*

Concierge: Good Morning, Suwa-sama!

Rei: I'm making an order. Mild beef curry, a steak, a cola...

Concierge: Thank you so much for doing business with our hotel. However we need to discuss your payment with you...

*********************

Rei: I can't use it?

Concierge: That's right. This card has been suspended. Do you have another form of payment

that you could use?

Rei: Ugh...

*********************

Concierge: Wait!

*Rei running*

*Car honks*

Driver: Hey you! Watch where you're going!!

Rei: This is bad... The family card has been cut off... so I don't have money!

*********************

Kazuki: I'm gonna score big! RED!

Crowd: Ohh!

Girl 1: Wow! You’re betting it all?

Girl 2: Kazu-kun, you're so brave!

*Chugs drink*

Kazuki: Ahhh! I’m on a roll today! I'm gonna win this one and be rich!

*Ball rolling to a stop*

Kazuki: AAAHHHHHHH!!!!

*********************

*Kazuki shivering*

Girl 1: Come again, okay?

*Kazuki sneezes and drinks more*

Kazuki: Ugh... Ah... My life is over...

Kyuutarou: Don't just decide that on your own.

Kazuki: Kyuu-chan!

Kyuutarou: Kazuki. Come to Yadorigi.

*********************

Kyuutarou: Can you even work a proper job after all this time? The only kind of work for you is dirty work. Isn't that right?

Kazuki: Yeah... that's right...

Kyuutarou: You keep failing your jobs and I haven't been able to contact you. Is this really the time to be drowning yourself in alcohol?

Kazuki: I'm sorry...

Kyuutarou: How many years do you think it's been since that accident? Can you face Karin-chan like this? 

Kazuki: Ah...

Kyuutarou: This is your last chance.

Kazuki: Last?

Kyuutarou: If you mess up this job... I'll kill you.

Kazuki: Wait...! Anything but that!

Kyuutarou: Then make sure this job is a success.

*Paper crinkling*

Kazuki: Huh? Who's this...?

Kyuutarou: Suwa Rei. The son of our organization’s leader, also known as the "murder machine"

***************

*Convenience store bell ringing*

Cashier: Welco-...me...

Rei: *Grumbling*

Cashier: Eh? That guy's kinda creepy! His hair and beard are both unkempt and he’s stumbling around.... He seems like he'd be able to kill someone...

Rei: Umm...

Cashier: Y-yes? How can I help you?

Rei: How much is this?

Cashier: A teriyaki dog? It's 150 yen.

Rei. Mmm... *counts coins* 39 yen...

Cashier: Ah... Not enough, huh...?

Rei: *Sighs*

Cashier: Sir... Is something wrong?

Rei: Coat...

Cashier: Huh?!

Rei: Nevermind...

*Rei walks out while groaning*

Young Girl Cashier: Ah... Thank... you... What was with that guy?

***************

Rei: I’m an assassin. I can't bother civilians.

Thug: Aniki!

Aniki: Yeah? How'd it go?

Thug: I got the ransom! Here it is!

Aniki: Great job! Let's see it~

*Rei grabs bag*

Aniki: Huh?

Thug: Who are you!?

Rei: I'm borrowing this!

Thug: Huh!? Hey, give that back!

Aniki: Hey! Come on! Stop!

Thug: We’ve lost him!

Aniki: That thief! I'm gonna find him even if I have to turn this whole town upside down! Go find him!

Thug: Okay!

Rei: How annoying...

*Gun clicks*

Rei: Should I kill them...?

Kazuki: Hold on!

Rei: Who’re you?!

Kazuki: I found you, murder machine, Suwa Rei. My name is Kurusu Kazuk- Woah, woah, woah! Where are you going!?

*Running and panting*

Kazuki: Hey! Wait!

*More running and panting*

Kazuki: Fuck.

Kazuki: He’s so fast! I guess it's to be expected from an elite of the Suwa family? Fuck... I can't keep up...

Even though I'm confident in my running ability... all that drinking’s messed with me. Useless assassins will be gotten rid of... If he gets away now... then I'll...!

*Stops running and catches breath*

Kazuki: Maybe that's for the best. I’m a useless drunkard. There’s no one to mourn for me. That's just what I deserve. I'm finally... going to hell...

*can clinking*

Kazuki: Hm? Over there?

*Mechanical door opens*

Kazuki: Come out! Suwa Rei!

*Fist fight*

Kuzuki: Fuck.

*Gun clicks*

Rei: You know my name. You must be in the same line of work.

Kazuki: Wait! You don't understand!

Rei: You must protect yourself again-Hrk! (Idiom: 降り懸かる火の粉は払わねばならぬ Meaning: You must protect yourself against any possible dangers. Literally: you have to brush off any sparks that land on you)

Kazuki: Huh? What? He suddenly fainted?

*Stomach grumbling*

Rei: I’m... hungry...

Kazuki: Huh?!

*****************

*Rei groaning*

Kazuki: Oh! You’re up? Hold on, it's almost done.

Rei: Where...?

Kazuki: My place.

Rei: It’s dirty.

Kazuki: That's all you have to say to the guy who saved your life? I've had a lot going on so I haven't had time to clean.

Kazuki: Here~! Eat.

Rei: Food?

Kazuki: You're malnourished, aren't you?

Rei: Are you sure?

Kazuki: Don’t spill it.

*Slurping sounds*

Kazuki: How is it?

Rei: Udon.

Kazuki: You can tell just by looking at it! How does it taste?

Rei: Like soy sauce?

Kazuki: Because it’s udon! I'm asking if it tastes good?

Rei: It’s normal.

Kazuki: What the hell are you?! At times like this it's only polite to tell someone “It's so delicious!” as thanks even if it's just flattery!

Rei: Hmm!

Kazuki: Huh? Damn, man... Your file said you don't understand polite society and have zero life skills, but you're really like a robot! So... you ran away from home?

Rei: Yeah...

Kazuki: And you're already broke? The money in that bag... it's the ransom from the kidnapping case that’s all over the news, isn't it?

Rei: Probably.

Kazuki: Did you do a kidnapping?

Rei: I borrowed it.

Kazuki: Borrowed it?

Rei: From the kidnappers.

Kazuki: You liar! You stole it!

Rei: I didn’t have any money.

Kazuki: Ugh... Why in the world did you target such troublesome people?

Rei: I can't bother civilians.

Kazuki: You're strangely conscientious.

*Rei continues eating*

Rei: Done.

Kazuki: Osomatsusama (Set phrase to thank someone after they eat your cooking that means sorry for the crude food)

Rei: Kurusu... umm...?

Kazuki: It's Kazuki.

Rei: Kazuki.... Why didn’t you kill me?

Kazuki: Oh, don't get the wrong idea. My job was to protect you.

Rei: Protect?

Kazuki: There's a certain order to this town. Having a lone wolf like you running around wild is a problem. But you’re quite skilled, aren't you. There’s plenty of troubles you can deal with around here. If you work for Kyuu-chan, this town'’s boss, I'm sure you'll make good money.

Rei: Money...

Kazuki: Did you really think you could run away from home and become a normal person? The only kind of work for us is dirty work. Isn't that right? Do you want to slowly die from malnutrition or do you want to play with the cards you’ve been dealt?

Rei: Umm...

Kazuki: Hm? What is it?

Rei: Get me in contact with that boss.

Kazuki: Oh! Okay.

Rei: Thanks.

Kazuki: Huh? Nah I just did my job. You don't need to thank me for anything!

Rei: Mm.

Kazuki: Mmm... What?... It’s not like I’m happy that you thanked me or anythi-

Rei: Move!

*Rei shoves Kazuki to the ground*

Kazuki: Ah! Hey! What’re you do—?!

*Bullets and yelling from thugs*

Thug: We know you're in there!!

Kazuki: Gah! you idiot! Stop! Hey! My place will-!!

Rei: It’s fine. Leave it to me.

Kazuki: Rei?!

Rei: I’ll take responsibility for this. 

*Thugs yelling and shooting*

Kazuki: Wah! Wah! Hey! Wah! Stop! Wah! Not- Not my place!!!!!!!!!

**********************

Kyuutarou: Welcome.

Kazuki: Ah... Hey, Kyuu-chan... I took care of those two jobs.

Kyuutarou: I’m relieved to hear you're actually able to do your job now. Now you just need to improve your skills.

Kazuki: I'm only second rate anyway. I'm nothing like the elite Rei. But he’s amazing, isn’t he? It hasn’t even been a month yet and how many jobs has he done?

Kyuutarou: 30 jobs.

Kazuki: Seriously? We're going to go out of business! He’s probably earned a lot already. Ah, but when I saw him here the other day, his beard and hair were still as much of a mess as ever. Is he even living decently?

Kyuutarou: I found a place for him to stay.

Kazuki: Huh? Kyuu-chan, do you also work in real estate?

Kyuutarou: Well, I have connections. Should I refer you too, Kazuki? You haven’t found a new place yet, have you?

Kazuki: Ahh... well I’ve been busy with work... Even though my last place ended up riddled with holes I really liked it.... *Sighs* Why did it end up like that? Ahhh... This sucks...

Kyuutarou: Oh, right. I have a request for you. Rei is perfect at his job but he never leaves his house so I never see him. So I'm sorry but could you take the information for his next job to him?

Kazuki: Yeah, sure... I was just wanting to complain to him about my wrecking house anyway.

*Kazuki walking away*

Kazuki: Bye! Tell me if you get another job for me!

Kyuutarou: Yeah!

*Door opens and closes*

Kyuutarou: Well... I hope it goes well...

*********************

*Elevator dings*

Kazuki: Wooooow... How good of an apartment does he live in? Is this normal for a son of the Suwa Family? He must be raking it in. Damn it!

*Doorbell rings*

Rei: Yes?

Kazuki: Umm... Kyuu-chan has a job for you so he asked me to bring you the information.

Rei: Ah...

*Kazuki opens the door*

Kazuki: Pardon me... Gwah! Hnk! It reeks! So bad! Hnrk! Eh? This place is so dirty! Eh!? Dirty! Dirty!It’s bad... It's so bad!

Rei: Huh?

Kazuki: Don't just say "Huh?" What is this on the floor?!

Rei: Pizza.

Kazuki: The leftovers of one, right?! And that green stuff isn't basil, is it?! There's something awful growing out of it, isn't there? Aghh! And this delivery sushi is all dried out! Wah! And there’s a cup noodle with the soup left in it! Throw it out! Throw it out! Now what about the kitchen...? AHHHHHHHH! THE SINK! THE SINK IS FULL OF A STRANGE COLORED LIQUID!!! HEY, REI!! DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS PLACE!!!

Rei: Maybe I'll hire a maid?

Kazuki: Wait, wait, wait, wait! Have you forgotten what you do for work? Your place is full stuff like sensitive

documents and weapons! It would be bad if you let a normal person in here!

*Rei’s starts playing video game*

Rei: Oh well then.

Kazuki: Huh? Stop escaping from reality! *Sighs exasperatedly* Fuck, okay then! I’ll help you clean this place up!!

Rei: Thanks.

Kazuki: You're helping too, you shut in! And I'm going to tame that wild hair of yours too so be prepared for that!

Rei: *sighs in frustration*

**************************

*Boiling*

Kazuki: Hm... *slurp* Mmm! Perfect! Okay! 

*Turns off stove*

Kakuzi: Hey, Rei! Food's ready!

Rei: There’s so many plates.

Kazuki: Complaining about strange things as always but oh well. Here you go. Go ahead and eat your fill! Since the money for this came out of your wallet anyway.

*Rei starts eating*

Kazuki: He can't even say Itadakimasu, huh?

Kazuki: So? How does it taste?

Rei: The curry... is a little spicy.

Kazuki: I thought you'd say that! But whatever.

Kazuki: If you're eating it so fast, then I guess it was worth making it. It felt nice to cook in such a large kitchen again anyway. Ahh... I want a kitchen as big as this in my new place. It would be impossible with my pay though...

Rei: You don’t have a place to live?

Kazuki: Because someone completely destroyed it!

Rei: Mmm...

Kazuki: Huh? Ohh! Are you feeling guilty?

Rei: Want to stay here?

Kazuki: Huh?

Rei: I have extra room.

Kazuki: You... wow...! You just want to use me as your housekeeper, don't you?

Rei: Yeah.

Kazuki: HE JUST ADMITTED IT!!! JUST HOW SHAMELESS ARE YOU?! Ah, but... hmm I guess that might not be so bad actually?

Kazuki: I'm good at housework and Rei is amazing at his job.... so we can cover for each other's weaknesses...

Rei: We're playing with the cards we've been dealt.

Kazuki: That’s not what I mean!

Rei: Oh?

Kazuki: Fine! Then I guess I’ll be staying with you for a little while.

Rei: Mm.

Kazuki: Thanks, shut in.

Rei: Thanks, freeloader.

[kurooo-is-here]

Can you make a Drayton x reader where the readers best friend is Carmine and she introduces them and they have a friendly rivalry that turns into a relationship? If possible can it be a male reader. (Doesn't have to be tho 😅)

Oooo, this is a fun prompt! I already battle Drayton every day (I'm so normal about him 😭) so I kinda relate already LOL

Drayton x Male Reader ft. Carmine

Carmine reluctantly introduces Drayton to you, since he wouldn't stop asking her about the new guy she brought from Paldea. She introduces him as "the worst person ever", which gets a laugh out of him.

Carmine nearly jumps Drayton when he asks you out on a cafeteria date. She's furious that he's already making moves on you despite just meeting you, doesn't he know how to make friends at all?!

Drayton has his eye on you during your BBA Elite Four trials, and once you beat him, he's especially interested in battling you again. He calls your battles a way to destress, but deep down, he's never felt this excited before. He's interested to know what makes you so special.

Expect LOTS of battling with him. He changes his strategies up sometimes just to throw you off, and it pushes you to do better. When you do win, he's very happy for you and treats you to lunch afterwards!

Carmine laments that she's never felt like such a third-wheel before, because you and Drayton are getting along so well. She keeps bugging you, saying she's never seen Drayton this .... not LAZY before, and that he's actually trying for once, so clearly he must like you! You don't believe her at first, until you catch feelings yourself. Drayton's been a bit more touchy with you lately, which flusters you every time. He seems to enjoy teasing you.

Drayton being Drayton, he waits for you to confess to him. He already knows he likes you back, but wants to hear it from you. So when you do confess, he happily accepts! Though he makes it known that he's not letting you go from now on :)

Carmine finds out almost immediately and says she called it from a MILE away, the two of you were just pining at each other so much!! Ugh, it was so obvious!

Drayton gets surprisingly jealous when you battle other people. You are his strongest opponent, his rival, and his boyfriend- and he wants to keep it that way. After you battle other people, he suddenly gets very cuddly and insists on having his arms around you for at least the next hour.

You still battle him a lot, but he gets to be much more affectionate with you now that you're dating. Lots of victory kisses, hugs, and snuggles.

He gets busy from time to time doing BBA Elite Four stuff, but he's always making time for you in his schedule somehow, whether its to battle you or just be with you.

[spiderymiasma]

🕸 The Chase 🕸 || Miguel x f!Spider

Summary: She was the perfect prey. And he was a natural predator. And Miguel's getting sick of her games...

Words: 2.9k

A/N: Please let me know if I use Spanish incorrect. I"m not a native speaker and appreciate any feedback!

|| My AO3 ||

Like most other days, today quickly started turning to shit for Miguel O'Hara.  Lego Spiderman, one of his best, was recently admitted to the MedBay for Lego related injuries (not funny Lyla).  Morales and his gang of hooligans had botched yet another simple mission.  Peter B. was giving him lip and wouldn't stop droning on about Mayday.  And Hobie…?

Ugh, Miguel didn't even want to think about Hobie. 

And worst yet, his own body was driving him crazy.  His fangs ached so terribly.  The gums around them reddened and tender.  His head was fuzzy, and every fiber in his muscles ached, begging to be let free. 

"I see you're still working well into the early hours of the morning." A soft feminine voice remarked from the shadows.  A lithe Spiderwoman walked up in front of the numerous monitors and screens in front of him. 

Miguel grunted.  Without any windows in headquarters, he hadn't even noticed the hours passing by.  "Hard not to when you have Miles Morales fucking everything up around here."

The Spiderwoman rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.  It was obvious even to those who weren't close with Miguel, that he was starting to lose control of himself.  He'd be driving everyone crazy for nearly a week.  Snapping at the smallest insult, berating the poor new recruit, and worst of all (in Peter B's opinion) refusing to look at the newest reels of Mayday's baby pictures.

In her opinion, Miguel needed to get control of his attitude.  And she knew just the fix.

"Miguel, you are too hard on that poor Morales kid.  He tries his best and means well."

"Yeah?  Well he screws up every single operation I send him out on."  Miguel soldiered on, continue to bury himself in his charts, figures, and a figurative stack of reports. 

The Spiderwoman hummed.  As one of the first ones to be recruited by Miguel into their "Spider society", she's seen Miguel transform from headstrong "One and only" Spiderman to the supreme leader of an elite and deadly Spider Society.  Though it was always hard to tell what that man was thinking, she hoped that he would consider her a friend.

She always hoped that he was never too peeved whenever she called him out on his bullshit. 

"You seem more stressed than usual."  Before Miguel could interrupt her to claim otherwise, she finished.  "How can I help?"

Miguel momentarily paused in his work.  Their eyes connecting for the briefest moments through the transparent screens that separated them.  He faint stress lines on his forehead made the poor man appear older than he deserved.  Several strands stuck out from his perfectly gelled hair, no doubt from the numerous times he ran his fingers through his hair.  It seemed, at least from her view, that he had so much he wanted to say.  Or maybe, it was her heart that yearned for Miguel to finally say what he had been holding back for so long.  His shoulders softened at her smile. 

"Nah, you've done enough work this week."  He averted his eyes away from hers.  "Go get some rest before you get too cranky for tomorrow's meeting."

The corners of her lips dipped down in frustration.  She didn't need Spidey-senses to be able to tell how the waves of stress rolled off of his tight shoulders in waves.

"How about you and I do a training session together tomorrow?"  She asked suddenly.  "It's been a while since you got out of your tall pedestal." 

His fingers paused in their typing as if he was actually considering it for a moment.  The itch under his skin begging to be addressed.

They quickly resumed their work.  Miguel let out a frustrated sigh.  "I just told you that I'm up to my ears in work.  And besides, if it weren't for that Morales kid-"

"I know, I know."  She placated.  "I know you find it hard to believe, but I do listen to what you tell me."

Miguel scoffed, clearly not believing her.

"Well, I think you could use some training tomorrow.  When's the last time you got some fresh air?  Really let those…instincts run while."

They looked at each other in the eyes again, this time without the blue-green screens separating them.

Besides Lyla, she was one of the few Spiderpeople to understand how badly the spider DNA affected Miguel.  She herself was bitten by a particularly nasty spider and often appeared more animal than human.  Miguel tried to pretend otherwise, using temporarily serums and DNA injections to stave off the worst of the symptoms but….

…it was hard hiding that part of himself from someone like her.

Their "training" wasn't…traditional.  It was very private, very secret affair that they told no one with the sole exception of Lyla who was bond by code to secrecy.  Miguel really doubted what they did together to be counted as training at all.  But Miguel and her…were…uniquely biologically disposed in similar enough ways that they could find solace in each other and bond over their more animalistic sides.

Still, didn't make it any less awkward to explain to outsiders.

He was the one to break eye contact first.  Looking away, he again pretended to busy himself with silly work. 

"Can't."  He grunted.  "Like I said, I’m busy."

He couldn't help but notice how her eyes gleamed mischievously.  "Some other time then,"  With a small wave of her hand, she disappeared into the darkness, and Miguel naively thought that they could put the conversation to rest.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Like most nights, Miguel somehow managed to squeeze in a couple hours of rather fitful sleep.   Sleep was just as difficult as any battle for him.  Between He padded to his workstation ready to start a whole new laundry list of tasks.

"Lyla, what's the docket looking like this morning."  He asked sleepily, rubbing his face with his large palm, careful to not let his claws pierce his eyes.

Only silence responded.

"Lyla?  C'mon I don't have time for your games."

His voice echoed ominously across the empty room. 

Slowly dragging his palm down his face, he finally looked up his screens.

Their automatic sensors were off.  The backlights dim, and all of his work had been completely reshuffled. 

Someone had been here.  Funny enough, he had a pretty good guess as to who.  Amidst all the tedious paperwork, there was an old-fashioned sticky note attached to his desk.

"Heya Mig, hope you slept well.  If you would like Lyla to be up and running again, come and find me for some sparring practice!

-EARTH 45690"

Miguel swore underneath his breath in colorful Spanish.  She knew he hated that nickname.  His fangs were so sore in his gums.  His thoughts felt clouded by a thick fog and moved sluggishly.  He could feel the rush of biological chemicals running through his veins.  He did not have time for this bullshit.

Punching the written number into his watch, he walked through the open portal into whatever dimension she summoned him to.  The sooner he get this over with, the sooner he could go back to work.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Instantly, he was met with a blast of humid heat that did not feel good against his feverish skin.  Blinking at the stark sunlight, he took stock of his surroundings.  Gigantic prehistoric palm levels, staggering cliffs, and dragonflies the size of German Shepherds.

Great.  Prehistoric New York.  Spider Rex's Earth.  Why on earth would she bring him here?

"Hello Miguel!"

Miguel's neck craned upwards.  The offending spider woman was resting in a cozy little hammock made out of spider webbing as if she had all the time in the word.

She was getting on his nerves.

"I don't have time to play games with you."  He shouted from the ground, hoping she could hear him.  "Get rid of whatever virus you gave Lyla this time, so we can get back to schedule."

She frowned, staring at him from above.  "Hm…wellllll I do have this handy dandy UBS, but I'm afraid you'll have to catch me first to use it."

She hadn't even finished her grand speech before Miguel was already climbing up the rock giving chase.  His talons sunk into the sides of the cliff, tearing apart the earth beneath him every time he climbed forward.

Reaching desperately, he clawed at the UBS drive in her fingers.  Her wrist snapped back.  The thumb drive mere inches away from his reach.  He growled dangerously.  His patience waning. 

Her face split into a grin underneath her mask. 

"You thought it was going to be that easy?"  She teased.  She got up from her homemade hammock.  She made a big show of stretching her loose limbs.  She was calm as if she were a woman warming up before a Pilates class instead of a Spiderwoman about to be hunted down by her very, very pissed boss. 

"Give.  Me.  The. Stick."  Miguel's growled, his tone dangerous. 

"Only if you catch me."  She sang.

Before Miguel could react, she was gone, using the overgrown palm trees above them to sling away. 

He chased after her. 

They did this quite often.  They would meet each other in a throwaway universe, they would spar, Miguel would hunt her down, and they would go back to their lives as normal.  If someone like Peter B were to find out about this "training" of theirs, they would call it flirting. But her and Miguel knew better.  People whose DNAs were laced with spider DNA….there was a part of themselves they tried to suppress, try to hide for the betterment of spider society.

This was one rare moments where they could let out this side of them.

She zipped and zagged through the thick foliage, like an acrobat weaving through fabric.  She danced with the practiced experience of a superhero well-versed in her art.  Miguel was just as deadly, breaking through the heavy trees, leaving a trail of broken twigs and disturbed underbrush in his way.  In his crazed frenzy, he wrecked havoc on the peaceful forest.

The only warning she got was the glint of slitted amber eyes in darkness, before a weight slammed into her in a frenzied blur.  She blocked his arm with one hand.  The other held the prized UBS stick out of Miguel's reach tauntingly.

They sparred for a while, well-practiced in each other's movements and attacks.  Sometimes she would land a well-placed clever blow on him, and other times his claws would come dangerously close to the UBS.  Finally, he managed to pin her lithe form into the forest ground.  Miguel's lips turned up into a snarl that showed off his pointed incisors.

She couldn't help but whimper.

His bulking, threatening form was pressed on top of hers.  With his body so close against her, he could smell her sweet and alluring scent, making something inside him purr with need. Honeysuckle, soft cotton, and the lavender shampoo she always used.

He did his best to ignore it.  This was sparring.  Nothing more.  It would never be anything more.  Don't be creepy to your female subordinate.

"You make this too easy."  He growled.  "Don't lose your edge so fast."

She panted, trying to even her respiratory rate.  His clawed hands were so warm, pressing her arms down onto the ground.  He radiated body heat.  His pinpoint pupils stared her down, pinning her in place.  The moment their gazes met, she couldn't look away, captured by those glowing eyes.

No, no, stop.  Don't go there.  He was her coworker.  Her boss.  Her boss with enough emotional baggage to rival any other Spiderperson.  This…training they had between them was for professional use only.  A way to get the edge off.  Like yoga, or boxing.  No romance involved.

Her spider instincts said otherwise.  It took everything in her to ignore her body that was screaming to get as close to Miguel as possible.

Her voice was raspy with need.  "Don't worry, Miguel, I have still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

And with a flick of her wrist, her web trap sprang to life.  Without any Spidey senses, intricate sticky web ensnared Miguel in place.  She deftly rolled out of his grasp, free again to gloat at another tiny victory.  She hovered closely, the eyes on her mask innocent and curious as she observed him.

He growled.  His muscles straining against the restraints.  "Oh you'll pay for that one, chica." 

She tried to hide her giggles behind her hands.

With a quick flex of biceps, the spiderwebs ripped apart.  His bulging muscles and claws easily shredding through her webbing like paper.  Though he was only caught for a few seconds, it was enough of an opening for her to slip away.  Miguel sprung to life lunging after her with clawed hands.

She dodged easily, already slinging away.

He huffed.  Infuriating woman.  He chased after her retreating form.  His blood was pumping hot in his veins.  "You know, this is only eating away at the time I have available for all my stupid paperwork."  His voice lacked any real heat behind his words.  He tried to swipe at her with his talons, only to find her just out of arms reach.

She languidly dogged his arm as she swung on her webbing.  "Hmmm. Your work?  I did it for you already last night."

Miguel's heart skipped a beat.  He almost lost his footing.  "Y-you…you did?"

She twisted her body back to face him as she swung backwards with ease.  "I did most of the stuff I could do without your explicit approval, with Lyla's help of course."  Miguel managed to grab onto her ankle.  She broke through his grasp with well-practiced dexterity.  "Everything else on your desk is just waiting for your signature."

She didn't have to do his busywork.  In fact, Miguel highly discouraged it.  She was far more useful in the field.  Her competency shouldn't be wasted on tasks that were benefit her.  Still, it didn't stop the warmth blooming in his chest.

They flew through the air, going through the motions of this well-practiced dance they had between them.  Perhaps it was accidental or more likely it was on purpose, but eventually her pace faltered as she momentarily lost her balance running from Miguel. 

It was enough for Miguel. 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he finally caught her.  He slammed her roughly against the nearest rockwall, perhaps too roughly for anyone else that wasn't a Spider.  The forceful impact cracking the wall behind her.  It shuddered as rubble fell on top of the both of them.  Using his back, Miguel shielded from from most of the debris. 

He removed his mask from his face, starved for as much oxygen as he could get.

"Parece que finalmente gané (Look's like I finally won)."  His voice was rough with exertion.

Pulling off her own mask She gasped for air.  Her hair, sticky with sweat, clung to her face and eyelashes.  Her eyes were blown wide from a mixture of adrenaline and exertion.  She jutted out her chin arrogantly, or maybe invitingly.  "Are you here to collect your prize?" 

With a grin on Miguel's handsome face and darkened eyes, he pinned her arms above her, trapping her against the wall.  There was no doubt in his mind, that if she truly did not want this, she could easily break free from his grasp.  There was a flash of sharp fangs as Miguel loomed over her possessively.  Adrenaline pumping through his veins, minds pulsating with animalistic need, he leaned down to kiss her.  The prized UBS drive now entirely forgotten. 

His lips were so soft and contrasted so nicely against the hard contours of the rest of his body.  She eagerly melted into the kiss, wrapping her legs around Miguel's waist to get closer to him.  He smelled of sweat, musk, and sandalwood.  She struggled not to get drunk off of his scent.   Clawed fingers carefully reached up to cup her face, caressing it so gently. 

His sharp canines accidentally nicked her bottom lip.  Before he could pull away and apologize, she whimpered with need, her tongue darted out, licking at the broken skin.  She looked wild, entirely animalistic, giving into her most base urges.  Miguel was sure he looked the exact same. 

Miguel's fangs latched onto the soft skin of her neck, piercing.  She keened, basking in the pleasure.  Miguel had enough restraint to at least hold back from injecting her with paralytic venom but as her hands roamed over his pectorals greedily, it was getting harder and harder to stop himself from claiming her.

"Miguel, please."  She begged against his skin.  Her throat already bruising with love marks, there was two obvious puncture wounds left by Miguel.

The rational, stressed side of him froze at the sight of her.  She looked like she'd been attacked by…some monster.  What on earth was he thinking?  This was his subordinate, someone he respected.  Someone who sat right next to him during boring conference meetings.  This was wildly inappropriate.  Trapping her and just having his way with her.

He pulled back almost scalded.  He can't believe he let it get this far. 

Seeing his reluctance, she fisted his spidersuit pulling him closer to her.  An animalistic growl came from her throat. Her red eyes were dilated with need.  "Don't you dare fucking stop, Miguel O'Hara."

"Mierda."  What little restrain he had snapped, as he lunged forward to consume her.

Later…much later…he'd ask her again if she would like to spar with him again sometime soon.